


Konpeito

by cake_and_kuyashii



Series: Konpeito [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Seduction, Bad Decisions, Breaking Up & Making Up, Breathplay, Complicated Relationships, Confusion, Denial of Feelings, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Consent, Heartbreak, Heavy Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Idiots in Love, Implied Consent, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It Hurt Itself In Its Confusion!, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One blink and you miss it Yuzuvier reference, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Switching, Takachida if you squint, Zebraswan if you squint even harder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cake_and_kuyashii/pseuds/cake_and_kuyashii
Summary: "Sensations, emotions, come pouring over Shoma, as relentless as Yuzuru’s passion is now, and he knows he’s drowning. Drowning and helpless, with no will to fight. And how could he fight? Why would he? He wanted this, he’d always wanted this. To feel the lips of the most beautiful man in the world crashing down onto his own, to taste them. Sugar stars. Konpeitō.“What?” Yuzuru breathed as he broke the kiss and that’s when Shoma realized he’d mumbled the word against his lips."Or, two idiots in love slowly figuring things out, dancing on the thin line between love and hate along the way.





	1. Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> This idea initially blossomed after wondering what a drunk Yuzu would be like, and hearing “New Rules” one too many times, and then much darker songs took over during the actual writing. Comments help a lot! I promise everything is going to end well, but it's all aboard the pain train for now. Thank you. <3 Huge thanks to kasuchans for beta-ing for me!

Shoma stared up at the ceiling of his hotel room, hands folded across his chest. It was definitely after 2 a.m., maybe even 3. It was Wednesday night, technically Thursday morning now, and the first on ice practice for the weekend's show was early in the morning. But Shoma couldn't sleep. His phone buzzed beside him, the light of the screen blaring through the darkness, but he didn't look at it. He knew who it was. He didn't want to look.

Not being able to sleep was frustrating. Aggravating. Flying from one part of Japan to another didn't warrant jet lag issues, so he couldn't blame that. He'd had a nap in the middle of the day, sure, but it wasn't that either. He chewed on his bottom lip, aware of the way his stomach felt twisted into knots. He knew what it was. Who it was. Causing this.

His phone vibrated and lit up again beside him. Once, twice. He glanced sideways at it and sighed, but still didn't move to check it.

Shoma moved his hands up to rub his eyes. He'd be a mess tomorrow, but he supposed that would be alright. He'd find out in a few hours, either way. At least Dai would be there. He smiled at the thought. Seeing Dai was always good, even if his attention still made Shoma feel nervous, giddy, like a small child meeting him for the first time all over again. The fact he had earned the respect of his idol still made him feel weird, happy, but weird. Keiji would be there too. Spending time with Keiji was easy, it was comfortable. It would be good to have him there.  
  
His phone lit up and buzzed again. One. Two. Three. Shoma rolled over and reached out for his phone, squinting and grunting at the harshness of the light as he turned it over to scan the messages.

>>Hey  
1 missed call (Yuzu-kun)  
>>Are you up?  
>>Cna I come over? I wanna see yo u  
2 missed calls (Yuzu-kun)  
>>ShoMA  
>>I miss you Ci please?

Shoma pressed his lips together into a thin line, feeling the anger stir in his gut. He was drunk again. Of course he was. He was almost always drunk for...this, whatever this was. Especially at this hour. He felt the sting of tears threatening to start and squeezed his eyes shut, hard. Not tonight. Not now. He wished Keiji had never opened his big mouth and set this in motion. If Yuzuru had never gotten drunk, none of this would've happened. Everything would still be normal. Safe. Pining was easier when it had been a complete fantasy. When he didn't know what it felt like, to have the man he'd adored so quietly and patiently all this time, eagerly kissing him back between giggles, or gasping into his mouth. Didn't know what it felt like to be buried deep inside of him, the way it looked when he let his head fall back onto the pillow, elongating his neck. What his face looked like in the height of moment, how his eyes rolled back before they fluttered shut and his mouth fell open. How desperate he sounded when he cried out, the way he moaned his name...Shoma shook his head and threw his phone down, rolling over away from it. He definitely didn't want to think about that right now. The point was, it was better before. When he didn't know. When he could only dream. Because now...

He heard his phone go off again and closed his eyes. Thought back to how this all started. Pyeongchang, after the competition, with a few days to kill before they'd even need to be ready for gala practice.

_"And now...let's celebrate a little, yeah?" Keiji said, wiggling his eyebrows at Yuzuru and Shoma from behind the kitchenette counter. Shoma leaned on his elbows on the countertop, resting his chin in the palms of his hands. He nodded at Keiji and Keiji grinned, pulling three glasses out from the cupboard and turning his back to them to start mixing their drinks._

_"Oh, no, I'm allergic to alcohol, remember?" Yuzuru protested._

_Keiji snorted, looking back over his shoulder at Yuzuru with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah...sure...rubbing alcohol. You know they're different, right?" Keiji laughed at the way Yuzuru's eyes widened, Shoma giggled too. "I thought you were supposed to be really smart."_

_Yuzuru let out an exaggerated gasp. "How dare you, Keiji, I'm very smart, I'm just...being careful."_

_Keiji smirked and turned back around, shrugging. "So don't drink any rubbing alcohol then, duh. No problem."_

_Shoma giggled again and then felt the sharp dig of Yuzuru's elbow in his side. "OW, Yuzu!"_

_"Not funny." Yuzuru pouted, his face in full on glowering mode. "Make me one, then. And if I die, you can explain to the world how you killed Yuzuru Hanyu, two time Olympic gold medalist."_

_Keiji groaned, and Shoma was positive without seeing that he'd also rolled his eyes. "You're going to be saying that now for the rest of our lives, aren't you?"_

_"That's fine." Shoma piped up softly, glancing a little nervously up at Yuzuru. "It's really cool, Yuzu. You should say it all the time. You're amazing."_

_Yuzuru smiled down at Shoma and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Thank you, Sho...no..." He laughed and wrapped Shoma in a headlock, pulling him in and kissing the top of his head quickly while Shoma squeaked. "Olympic Silver medalist Shoma Uno."_

_Keiji groaned again and turned around with a drink in each hand. "Alright, alright, you're both amazing, we know, some compassion for mister 18th place please. Who is, by the way, super proud of you both." He placed the drinks on the counter and slid them towards the pair. "Yuzu, you're on painkillers right? Just be careful."_

_Yuzuru nodded and picked up his glass with both hands, studying it with a newfound curiosity. "It will be fine. I'll be careful."_

_\---_

_At least 3 drinks and a couple hours later, and Yuzuru was anything but careful. Keiji had passed out a while ago, splayed across his bed. Shoma and Yuzuru were sitting on the floor leaning against Shoma’s bed, leaning against each other. Shoma was pleasantly buzzed, and pleasantly entertained by a tipsy, giddy Yuzuru. Nothing had sunk in yet, really, and the buzz was only adding to the dreamlike quality of every passing moment. His face felt hot, hotter if he thought too much about how close they were right now, his head lying comfortably against Yuzuru's shoulder, Yuzuru's cheek resting gently on top of his head._

_"I'm really proud of you, Sho." Yuzuru mumbled into his hair. "Really proud."_

_Shoma didn't reply, just nuzzled his face into Yuzuru's shoulder and reached a shaky hand out to squeeze Yuzuru's leg, just above the knee. He felt Yuzuru's breath quiver, it almost tickled. Then he felt Yuzuru's lips pressing against his head. Once. Twice. Shoma turned to bury his face in Yuzuru's neck, planting his own timid kiss there. He felt Yuzuru stiffen and lift his head up, felt his hand against his cheek. Oh no. Too much. Yuzuru's fingers danced under his chin, forced his head to tilt up. Shoma winced and tried to prepare himself for a question, or even a reprimand. But Yuzuru's eyes were wide and dark, curious and hungry. He brought up his other hand to cup Shoma's face, running his thumb gently over Shoma's perpetually chapped lower lip. Shoma gazed at him in complete awe. Yuzuru smiled, and pulled him into a kiss._

_Yuzuru's mouth was sweet and sticky. like melting sugar stars. The bitter tang of the alcohol reminded Shoma of the sour way strawberries could taste after eating cake. Shoma felt like fireworks were bursting inside of him. Yuzuru's touch was electric and all of his nerves were on fire. Every kiss sent a fresh jolt coursing through his body. Yuzuru's hands dropped down to Shoma's chest, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down, down until Yuzuru's back was on the floor and Shoma was lying on top of him, legs fumbling to bracket Yuzuru's while his hands didn't know quite what to do, so he perched them awkwardly on Yuzuru's shoulders. Yuzuru moved one hand to tangle in Shoma's hair and slid the other down to tug playfully at the waistband of Shoma's sweatpants. He let out a tiny "mmf" in surprise and felt Yuzuru's lips curving into a smile. Felt Yuzuru giggle against his lips as his hand darted down to stroke quickly over the growing bulge there. Shoma gasped and rolled his hips down in spite of himself, eliciting a sudden and deep moan from Yuzuru._

_That's when Keiji let out a giant snore. The sound shot through Shoma like an arrow, reality crashing down around him hard. He broke the kiss and stared down at Yuzuru, panic evident on his face. Yuzuru just smiled coyly up at him._

_"Why'd you stop?" Yuzuru cooed, one hand tugging gently on Shoma's hair. He danced the fingertips of his other hand delicately across the skin above Shoma's waistband, toying._

_Shoma stared blankly back at Yuzuru. "Keiji." He whispered, glancing nervously over at their passed out teammate. "We can't um. Keiji's here."_

_As if on cue, Keiji rolled over to face them and snored again._

_Yuzuru smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "So? I'll be quiet."_

_Shoma raised his eyebrows. "I don't believe you. You're never quiet, ever. At anything."_

_Yuzuru giggled again and brought both his hands up to cup Shoma's face, leaning up to kiss him. "Fine. Come on. I have my own room."_

This was the part Shoma really didn't want to remember, not right now. He opened his eyes as his phone buzzed again beside him. The memories came anyway, in a flood. Yuzuru looking back over his shoulder and smiling so sweetly as he pulled an awe-struck Shoma along by the hand behind him. Hushing each other, giggling, stumbling on the stairs, stumbling into each other so Yuzuru's back hit the wall at the intermediate landing and Shoma fell into him. The way Yuzuru slumped against the wall while they lost themselves in each other again for a moment. The way Yuzuru had wrapped himself around him with his ridiculously long limbs the second they'd closed the door behind them to his room, tugging at Shoma's clothes with urgency. How they wound up on Yuzuru's bed, naked and tangled together. Yuzuru, wild, bucking up underneath him, gasping his name, _"_ _Harder_ _, Shoma,_ _more_ _."_ The fire and the hunger in his eyes. The taste of his sweat, the way it beaded along his neck. His desperate cries, punctuated by Shoma's thrusts, breath hot in Shoma's ear. _"Yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."_

Shoma placed a hand over himself and cursed under his breath, trying to think of anything else and will his unwanted erection away. It wasn't fair. Things hadn't stayed like that. Everything had changed, everything was worse, now. Stuck in the in-between. The Olympics had been a dream and a dream-come-true all at once. Shoma had never been happier, and he'd still bet money Yuzuru hadn't either.  Those precious days after the competition and before the gala had been nothing but happy, carefree, full of careless flirtations: stolen glances, touches, kisses.

 _Careless._ The word circled around in his mind, bringing up a bitterness he swore he could taste. Regret. They’d been careless. He’d been careless. Their last night together there, after the gala, had been as blissful as their first, both mildly buzzed and equally giddy. He had laughed and rolled his eyes when Yuzuru made his best puppy eyes and asked if he could wear his gold medal, but he’d indulged him. He remembered the sound of it, as it swung and smacked against Yuzuru’s chest. Remembered the way he’d taken the lanyard between his fingers and pulled it tight, and the excited gasp that had drawn immediately from Yuzuru. Remembered the feel of it, pressed between their chests as they lay in the afterglow, cool and solid - grounding. _Careless._ Remembered the way Yuzuru’s entire face had scrunched up into that special smile when Shoma kissed him, then. And then…

...Silence. It wasn’t unusual, not really, but Shoma had thought maybe that would change, now. They had never talked about what happened, just fallen into it. Naturally. Organically. The understanding that what they were doing needed to be secret was also unspoken. And Shoma didn’t want to break the silence. Didn’t want to push. Didn’t want to annoy. So he threw himself into his training, wondered if Yuzuru was doing the same. Wondered if Yuzuru felt the same. Shoved that thought down. Trained harder. Each day felt agonizing. He tried to stop his heart from leaping up into his throat every time his phone buzzed. Until finally, not even two weeks later, it came.

 _Shoma-kun~ ヾ(＾∇＾)_    _I’m withdrawing from Worlds,  I need to focus on my rehab for my ankle.  Work hard! (*＞ｖ＜)ゞ*゜+ See you in the summer!_

It had taken Shoma probably 100 different attempts to write something back, until he settled for

_Okay. Please rest well. I’ll be cheering for you._

He remembered how he’d hesitated, how his hands had been shaking when he quickly typed out one more line and hit send, before he could take it back.

_I miss you._

But Yuzuru hadn’t texted back. Not until Worlds. And they’d stayed firmly Yuzuru but firmly platonic. _“Do your best, Sho!” “You did well. You fought hard. Don’t beat yourself up too much.”_ He never mentioned what had happened between them. Shoma, still, didn’t want to push. So he didn’t either. The weeks dragged on, and on then, through the thick radio silence. Yuzuru was busy. Shoma was busy too. It’s not like they texted all the time anyway. Shoma kept throwing himself into skating, into gaming, into sleeping, into everything he could that wasn’t Yuzuru. Everything that could possibly occupy his mind. He felt the nervousness growing in his stomach the closer the JSF ceremony came. Anxious, curious. Yuzuru had been nervous. Distant. He could feel his eyes on him, feel them boring into him, sizing him up, but when he tried to meet them, Yuzuru looked away. Yuzuru kept his distance and Shoma didn’t want to push, Not here. Shoma held it together, in the face of some of his worst fears, at least until he was alone. Back home on his bed, knees tucked up close to chest, arms clenched tightly around them, he’d let the tears come. But then his phone had buzzed.

_Wrong place, wrong time for a reunion. It can’t be helped. Nagano. d( >_・ ) _

And then in Nagano, Yuzuru had acted like everything was fine - no one else would have noticed anything were wrong. But he clung to Javi, clung to Plushenko. Shoma hovered on the edges, with Sota, with Keiji, even with Nathan. His stomach tied itself into more and more knots. Keiji had frowned at him and nudged him when he let his thoughts drift too long, so he shook himself and smiled back up at Keiji. Tried not to panic. But he didn’t feel relief until he heard the door open and close quickly behind him in the changing room, after his performance. He hadn’t time to turn around before a familiar lean body had shoved him forward, pinning him up against the steel lockers. He felt a sting on his earlobe, teeth, a murmur. _“Come to my room tonight.”_ He couldn’t keep the grin off his face after that, until they were there, alone again.

It was the first time Yuzuru had taken him, and one of the only times he hadn’t been drunk. He remembered the way Yuzuru had gazed down at him, with such fondness it made him feel like he might melt. He’d reached a shaky hand up to Yuzuru’s cheek, and Yuzuru had nuzzled into it, pressed a small kiss on his palm. The memory made him want to cry now. He balled his hands into fists and pressed them hard against his eyes. Yuzuru never looked at him like that anymore.

And it was back to silence after Nagano. Until Nationals. Until the Grand Prix Final. He started to look forward to the banquets with a mixture of anticipation and dread. It was always the same. Yuzuru would drink, Shoma would watch with trepidation, but then he would usually drink too. Shoma would slink away from the party and go to bed alone. Shoma would wake up to Yuzuru on the phone and then Yuzuru at his door, drunk and full of want. _“We need to talk.” “No we don’t.”_ Shoma would give in, again and again. At this point, he wasn’t sure who he hated more - Yuzuru or himself.

The entire season had passed that way. A clear pattern had formed. And now, it was summer again. It was summer and they had an entire tour of ice shows together. Shoma groaned as his phone rang again, reached out and shoved it away underneath the other pillow. The show hadn’t even started yet. Couldn’t he at least wait until Sunday night? Why was he drunk already? Shoma closed his eyes and let one hand drift down to the erection that was still there, that he still didn’t want. If he just didn’t answer, then nothing could happen. Maybe, okay, certainly, he’d weaken, later, but they had four entire days to get through first. Yuzuru could wait. He could be the one left hanging, for once. Shoma could just take care of this himself and then-

There was a loud series of knocks on his door. Shoma jumped, startled, then turned his head to stare at the door to his room and blinked slowly. No way. Another flurry of knocks.

“Shooooo…come on, open up.”

Shoma frowned and sat up. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, still staring blankly at the door. Fuck. He tugged his shirt down as far as he could as he stood up and ran a hand quickly through his hair, trying futilely to steel his nerves. After all this time, after all this pain, there were still butterflies in his stomach and he hated that Yuzuru could still make him feel this way. He sighed and shuffled forward to open the door.

“Keep it down, would you? I’m pretty sure Dai is n- oof.”

Shoma stumbled backwards as Yuzuru immediately toppled into the room, toppled into Shoma, giggling into his hair and wrapping his arms around him tightly. Shoma’s fingers twitched but he left his arms hanging at his sides.

“What are you doing here, Yuzuru? Who gave you my room number?” Shoma kept his voice flat, lifting one leg out to kick the door closed.

“Shooo, don’t be so cold,” Yuzuru purred into his ear, starting to slowly trail small kisses from his earlobe down his neck.

Shoma grunted but didn’t stop him, tilting his head to the side to give him better access instinctively. “I didn’t answer for a reason, Yuzuru. I don’t want you here.”

Yuzuru hummed into his shoulder, then drew back to look down at him. Shoma felt his breath catch in his throat as they made eye contact for the first time in months. It wasn’t fair. How could he still look so beautiful? Even with the scent of liquor still coming off his breath. Even with his perfect cupid’s bow lips tugged up into a bratty smirk.

“You’re a bad liar.” Yuzuru whispered, dropping his hands down to Shoma’s waist and pressing his hips forward into Shoma’s. Shoma bit down on his lip, letting out a stifled “mmph” instead of the groan that wanted to come out instead. His hands flitted up to Yuzuru’s waist in spite of himself.  
  
“You’re not fair,” He whispered back, digging his nails into Yuzuru’s sides.

Yuzuru didn’t answer, just hummed again and bent his head down to catch Shoma’s lips in a greedy kiss, gently but firmly guiding him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Shoma fell back onto the bed with a sigh, closing his eyes. Yuzuru was already tugging at his sweatpants, tugging at his boxers.

“Can we talk?” Shoma managed to rasp as Yuzuru tugged both items of clothing down around his ankles and off.

“Mmm...no.” Yuzuru replied, just like Shoma knew he would. And then his mouth was around Shoma, warm and wet, and Shoma lost all chance of coherent thought. Shoma grabbed a hold of the hotel sheets with one hand, the other drifting down to clutch the side of Yuzuru’s face, to feel the stretch in his jaw as he took as much of Shoma’s length as he could. Yuzuru curled one hand around the base of Shoma’s shaft, squeezing in time with his own motions, stroking up any time that his lips did the same. His other hand pinned Shoma down firmly at the hip, keeping some form of control, so Shoma couldn’t thrust up wildly. Shoma moaned and tried to roll his hips up anyway, making Yuzuru grunt around him and shove him down harder against the mattress. He made another displeased noise as the hand that had been on his face moved up to tangle in his hair, and Shoma let out a breathy laugh. There were times when Yuzuru would beg for it. Beg for Shoma to curl his fingers tightly in his hair, to hold him in place while he fucked his mouth. Not tonight.

Shoma let his hand fall instead to Yuzuru’s shoulder. Yuzuru moaned around him and the sensation made Shoma curse under his breath, made his hips twitch. It was too much, too much after too long. He pushed himself up with his free arm onto his elbow and gave Yuzuru’s shoulder a light squeeze.

“Yuzuru...if you don’t stop soon, this is all you’re getting.” He muttered, hand moving up again to trace Yuzuru’s jawline lightly with one fingertip. Shoma bit down hard on his lip as Yuzuru looked up to meet his eyes. He nodded and began to draw back, agonizingly slow, always the tease. He lingered with his lips over the head, tongue playfully circling around one more time to make Shoma squirm before he let him go.

“Okay, fine, because...” Yuzuru started simply, hands digging firmly now into Shoma’s hips as he pulled himself up and onto the bed, knees straddling Shoma’s. He planted his arms down on either side of Shoma, touched his forehead against Shoma’s ever so gently, stirring the butterflies in Shoma’s gut again. “...I want you to fuck me.” He finished in a low whisper, immediately catching Shoma’s lips in another kiss, this one hot and restless, frantic.

Sensations, emotions, come pouring over Shoma, as relentless as Yuzuru’s passion is now, and he knows he’s drowning. Drowning and helpless, with no will to fight. And how could he fight? Why would he? He wanted this, he’d always wanted this. To feel the lips of the most beautiful man in the world crashing down onto his own, to taste them. Sugar stars. _Konpeitō_.

“What?” Yuzuru breathed as he broke the kiss and that’s when Shoma realized he’d mumbled the word against his lips.

“Nothing, shut up.” Shoma growled back and grabbed Yuzuru by the shoulders, flipping him over easily onto his back. Easily because Yuzuru wanted to be flipped over, wanted Shoma to climb over him just like this. The bubbly laughter the tussle drew out of Yuzuru pierced Shoma straight through the heart. This was better than nothing, right? The pain. The longing. The aching. They were worth it. Worth it to feel Yuzuru’s fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. Worth it to do the same back, hands sliding over the tight, hard muscle of Yuzuru’s abdomen, over every dip and ridge, over his chest, chiseled and strong, feeling the pressure against his palms as it heaved with Yuzuru’s frenzied breaths. He could tell himself it wasn’t worth all he wanted when he was alone in the dark, but now? How was he supposed to resist? Even if it wasn’t real, in these moments, he could have him.

Yuzuru’s hands fumbled with his own belt buckle, impatient. Shoma’s fingers drifted down, briefly tangling with and squeezing Yuzuru’s before brushing them aside.

“Let me.” He mumbled, and pressed a kiss to Yuzuru’s temple, against his better judgement, knowing full well the tender gesture would hurt later, twisting in his memory, in his gut.

Yuzuru, unbothered, hummed in affirmation and wiggled his hips to help Shoma slide his now unfastened jeans, then boxers, down. “Pocket.” He chirped, and Shoma raised an eyebrow at Yuzuru’s cocky smirk. He felt for the pocket, felt the small, hard shape there and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Greedy.” He muttered as he fished the small bottle of lube out of the pocket with one hand, tapping Yuzuru’s ankles with the other, motioning with his head towards the bed. Yuzuru took the hint and swung his legs up onto the bed, shuffled backwards to rest his head on the pillows properly. The satisfied little smile on his face was maddening. Shoma’s face darkened with his thoughts as he climbed back onto the bed and crawled towards him. How dare he? So smug, and oh so pleased with himself. So sure Shoma would do what he wanted, that he had Shoma wrapped around his finger. The fact he was right made it worse.

Shoma grabbed Yuzuru’s left ankle as he moved to bracket himself above him, pushing it up gently, and Yuzuru, eager, took the hint again, drawing his knees up towards his chest, hands quivering but firmly gripping the backs of his thighs to hold them in place. His face was flushed, bright pink on his cheeks, a sheen of sweat already glistening, and there was that look in his eyes again, that hunger. Shoma bit his lip and took in the sight before him, painstakingly committing each tiny detail to memory. Unfair. Yuzuru was so unfair.

“This is gonna be quick.” Shoma said, fighting hard to keep his voice flat as he sat back on his heels. He uncapped the lube and squirted a generous enough amount on his fingers, onto Yuzuru, and grimaced at the cool, oily feel, always startling against hot skin. Yuzuru mewled underneath him, gasping as Shoma leaned over him again and braced himself on his left arm, his right hand busy, fingers pressing at Yuzuru’s entrance, teasing.

“That’s fine,” Yuzuru whispered, looking Shoma dead in the eyes, “As long as it’s hard.”  
  
_Unfair._ Shoma tsk’ed, annoyed, and slammed his lips down onto Yuzuru’s, pressing one finger in at the same time. Yuzuru bucked up and cried out, lips mouthing frantically back at Shoma’s. Hot, desperate. Shoma nipped at Yuzuru’s bottom lip as he began to slide his finger in and out, gentle at first, but quickly falling apart. Especially as Yuzuru lost control underneath him, pressing sloppy kisses against his lips, his jaw, his neck, and moaning, loud, too loud, “Shoma, _more_.”

“Quiet,” Shoma reprimanded, praying that Daisuke in the room beside him was already asleep, and a heavy sleeper at that. But he obliged, adding another finger and secretly relishing the way it made Yuzuru’s eyes squeeze shut, the guttural moan it tore from Yuzuru’s throat, in direct defiance of Shoma’s command. He leaned in to bite, quick and sharp, at Yuzuru’s earlobe. “Brat.” He whispered as began to twist and scissor his fingers inside Yuzuru, equal parts resentment and fondness bubbling up inside him as Yuzuru let out a long, satisfied, “Mmmmm,” in response. The biggest brat. The Brat Prince. But his brat, right now. He kissed the skin just behind Yuzuru’s ear and wondered if it was just his imagination that made it taste bitter.

Yuzuru couldn’t move as freely as he wanted to but still tried to thrust down onto Shoma’s fingers. His head rolled back on the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, another moan cresting and rolling out from his dewy and slightly parted lips. Shoma drank it all in, intoxicated by the sight. Yuzuru, needy, unwound. Beautiful. He smashed his lips down onto Yuzuru’s haphazardly, messily, chasing the taste of him, chasing the high. One more finger. Yuzuru gasped into his mouth and pressed his hips down again in a circular motion. Almost. Just a little more.

“Sho,” Yuzuru whined, “Just fuck me already.”

There it was. Shoma pushed himself up to sit on his heels again and withdrew his fingers, slowly, savouring the whimper Yuzuru made. He shoved lightly at Yuzuru’s still bent knees with his left hand.

“Roll over.” He muttered, “On your knees.”

Yuzuru complied with an enthusiastic “yes!”, rolling over promptly and leaning on his elbows, wiggling his hips as he maneuvered himself into a good position. Shoma reached blindly for the small bottle of lube again, pouring more into his hand, keeping his eyes on Yuzuru. He palmed himself slowly, enjoying watching Yuzuru’s impatience become more visible the longer he took. But Shoma couldn’t wait much longer either. He shuffled forward on his knees and stroked his hands down Yuzuru’s impossibly small waist before settling them on his hips, lining himself up against Yuzuru’s entrance.

Yuzuru whimpered as Shoma started to push inside of him. Shoma noticed the way his fingers clenched around the bedsheets and paused. Waited, for Yuzuru’s breath to even, for the slight nod of his head. Shoma continued, pressing in slowly, gently, biting his lip to stifle his own moan as Yuzuru failed to do exactly that underneath him. He dug his nails into Yuzuru’s hips as he bottomed out. Yuzuru rolled his neck and sighed happily.        

“I missed you.”  
  
“Liar.”

Shoma pulled back and lingered, head of his cock barely inside Yuzuru, until the other squirmed in frustration and begged, “Shoma, _move. Please._ ” Shoma grunted and thrust forward, immediately overwhelmed by the familiar and enveloping warmth. Yuzuru let out a strangled and broken cry, Shoma’s arousal at the sound and frustration at his refusal to be quiet rising in equal measure. At some point, they’d stopped using condoms - whatever they were, they were exclusive, and consistently tested on top of it, but the feeling of skin-on-skin wasn’t something he’d ever gotten used to. Yuzuru felt divine, being inside of him felt like heaven, worth the suffering and worth the hell in-between the moments they got to be like this. Shoma bit back another moan as he increased the pace of his thrusts, quickly becoming undone. Yuzuru threw his head back and keened, high in his throat, shoving his hips back to meet Shoma’s thrusts and Shoma saw red.

“Shut _up_.” Shoma hissed, eyes narrowing as he placed a hand squarely between Yuzuru’s shoulder blades and shoved him face down into the hotel pillow, Yuzuru’s elbows collapsing underneath him. “Bite it.”

The shift changed the angle of Yuzuru’s hips as well, in a way that made Shoma’s breath catch in his throat and Yuzuru cry helplessly into the pillow as he mouthed at it. Shoma wanted to grab the back of Yuzuru’s head, twist his fingers in his hair and shove his head down into the pillow as he fucked into him, but he couldn’t reach. So instead, he settled for dragging his nails down Yuzuru’s rippling back as he trailed his hand back to his hip, loving the now muffled, delicious whine it drew from him.

The pressure coiling inside Shoma’s belly grew tighter. His thrusts grew more frantic, breaths growing ragged. Yuzuru’s desperate noises became a constant, muted stream, pillow gripped tightly between his teeth. Shoma wanted to see his face, wanted to watch him come apart, messy, helpless, but there wasn’t going to be enough time, not tonight. Yuzuru clenched around him and the pressure burst. A violent shudder ripped through Shoma’s body, he pawed at Yuzuru’s hips as he came, before collapsing forward to bracket Yuzuru’s back, mouthing weakly at the space between his shoulder blades, panting.

He reached around to grasp Yuzuru’s cock, to help him along in his own release. It didn’t take much. One, two, steady pumps and Yuzuru was gone, his entire body quaking beneath Shoma’s. His mouth fell open in a gasp as he came, one final, lewd yowl tearing itself from his throat. Shoma didn’t have the energy left to tell him off. Part of him didn’t even really want to. He reached his trembling fingertips up to Yuzuru’s waist, tugging gently to roll them both onto their sides. The self-loathing started to seep in on the edges of the afterglow, in slow, steady waves. Shoma pressed his face into the crook of Yuzuru’s neck, nipped the skin there, swallowing hard and squeezing his eyes closed. Yuzuru didn’t respond, just lay collecting himself and steadying his own breaths as Shoma lightly squeezed his waist and tried to wish his own thoughts away. _Stupid. You’re so stupid._

Shoma pulled out slowly, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and clearing his throat. Yuzuru took the hint, gently disentangling himself from Shoma and shimmying to the edge of the bed. Shoma opened his eyes slowly, knowing better and doing it anyway. He wanted to watch Yuzuru standing up, gingerly, stumbling a little as he caught his balance on long, shaky limbs. Wanted to watch him stretch, luxurious and slow, hear the satisfied little hum he made. Wanted to catch the little smirk Yuzuru threw him as he looked back over his shoulder on his way into the shower to clean up. _Brat._

But when Yuzuru leaned back out of the doorway, it was a softer, pained smile on his face as he threw Shoma a towel, and Shoma felt his chest tighten, a vicegrip around his heart. He mouthed a thank you to Yuzuru who nodded with the same, tight-lipped smile before closing the door behind him. The sputter of the hotel shower turning on and the hiss of the steam were Shoma’s cue to clean himself and the bed up as well, to collect his pajamas back off the floor and redress. He shoved Yuzuru’s clothes into a pile with his foot and climbed back under the covers, facing away from the bathroom door. He didn’t want to see, now. Needed to stay strong. Seeing would make him weak. It always did. _He_ always did. _Unfair_.

Shoma knew without looking that Yuzuru would be unsubtle, naked and preening as he stepped out of the shower. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of his own reaction either, the way it would bring the red flush back his jaw and make his pupils dilate, make his tongue dart out and wet his lips. So he stayed facing the wall when he heard the water stop, heard the door open and Yuzuru’s delicate footsteps padding back into the room. Listened silently as Yuzuru redressed, slow and purposeful. Lingering. When he felt the quilt lift, Yuzuru preparing to slide in beside him, his entire body tensed.

“You need to go.” Shoma managed to keep his tone flat and even. He bit back the rest. _You can't have this both ways._

The blanket hovered for a moment, then dropped. A mumble near his ear, “see you at the rink,” a pause, a peck to his temple so fast he wasn't sure it happened at all. Yuzuru wasn't going to fight him, not this time. Shoma closed his eyes as the door closed softly behind Yuzuru and let the new exhaustion carry him to sleep and away from his thoughts.


	2. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yuzu...” 
> 
> He’d expected a victorious smirk, a smug look of satisfaction. He hadn’t expected a look of relief in Yuzuru’s eyes, or a warm, happy smile on his lips. Or the softness in his voice when he prodded, “Was that really so hard?” It hurt worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry this has taken so long! I promise Chapter 3 will come much faster. It's already in the works (and it will be much softer). This is also going up without a beta, so...I hope it's not riddled with errors or terrible. I'm just tired of staring at it now and sorry for making you guys wait. Comments always help, I am perpetually self-critical.
> 
> Thanks to everyone from KSAS and to my lovely friends (you all know who you are <3) who I've bounced ideas off of and who have looked at bits and pieces of this while I worked on it - and for the encouragement and help with it all, digging me out of writer's block holes time and time again, helping me figure out what kinda scent Dai would wear, even contributing some of the lines. See if you can spot a line leant to me by [kasuchans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasuchans/) \- we left it as a tribute to her [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14483550/chapters/33458103) (which you should read). 
> 
> I have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cakeandkuyashii) and a [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/cakeandkuyashii) now, so you can find me there if you want to follow my fic progress or ask me anything!

The morning after was rough but bearable. All bar the moment Daisuke stared at the cup of coffee Shoma was clutching between both his hands, then up at Shoma with a knowing look. Shoma wanted the ice to open up and swallow him on the spot. But Daisuke didn’t say anything, and Shoma was grateful for that small blessing. 

The days passed as expected. Yuzuru, effortlessly graceful, effortlessly flirtatious with anyone who would indulge him, effortlessly fond with Shoma. But every ruffle of his hair, every coo, every touch, they all felt hollow to Shoma. Bitter. He stuffed it down, down, and tried to focus on his performances, on the steps in the group choreography, on anything else but the way his stomach still flipped, a familiar taste rising in his throat, sweet but sickly, everytime Yuzuru met his eyes, everytime he pretended that everything was ordinary, like he hadn’t shown up drunk and needy at Shoma’s door again. Shoma played along, for who’s sake he wasn’t sure, but he forced his own smiles and casual interactions back. A constant whisper in the back of his mind, warning him not to fall any further. To guard himself. _This isn’t real._

 _Real._ Real was Yuzuru arching up underneath him on the bed, eyes closed and mouth agape. Real was Yuzuru throwing him that pitiful look along with his towel, refusing to speak. Real was the impenetrable wall thrown up between them, even as their bodies twisted together. Real was lying in his bed, alone, fighting back tears. Feeling used, and worse, being _okay_ with it. Wanting it, even, over nothing. Shoma shook his head and tried to focus on lacing up his skates. It was Sunday now. Only one more show to get through, then it would be time to move to another city. It was probably too early for anyone to be getting together for drinks, he hadn’t heard anything. Would Yuzuru come tonight? He paused after tying his laces tight at the top, chewed briefly on his lower lip. Did he want him to? 

An all too familiar cackle rang out across the ice and he glanced up reflexively at the source. Yuzuru, of course, resting his hand lightly on Javi’s chest, laughing too loud, batting his eyelashes too much. Shoma felt a steady anger begin to simmer in his gut. Unfair. Yuzuru’s double standards. He could still remember, viscerally, the angry phone call from Toronto last summer, after the first photos from The Ice appeared online. The seething anger in Yuzuru’s voice, his own confusion - one, that Yuzuru was phoning him, two, what he was so angry about. The words that stung. _“Do you do everything we do with Nathan Chen?_ ” 

It had felt like a slap in the face, but at the same time...Shoma looked back down at his hands as he pulled his gloves out from his pockets, remembering the twisted feeling of delight that had burned in him then. Yuzuru was jealous. Easily jealous. Possessive, even. With no right, considering he still refused to talk, to firmly establish whatever was going on between them, he was still so easily puffed up into a rage if anyone so much as ruffled Shoma’s hair. If he still wouldn’t talk, maybe… 

Shoma’s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden firm series of slaps on his back as Daisuke plopped down beside him with an enthusiastic “Good morning!”, laughing at the way Shoma startled from the intrusion. 

“Dai, hi.” He mumbled shyly, fumbling to get his first glove on. He felt his face getting hot and hoped against hope he wasn’t blushing already. 

“First weekend nearly over already, huh? Time flies.” Dai chatted casually as he pulled out his own skates. 

Shoma made a small affirmative sound and pulled his other glove on, looking at Dai with an open curiosity, wondering where this was going. Dai looked back with a friendly grin. 

“We should celebrate! One leg down! Why don’t we go out to karaoke tonight?”  
  
Shoma groaned and slumped against the wall behind them with a pained expression. “Why is it always karaoke with you?” 

Dai just laughed and nudged Shoma’s knee with his own. “Don’t be such a spoilsport. Come on. It’d be nice to catch up, too.” He paused and tilted his head, giving Shoma a small, warm smile before adding, “Bring Yuzuru along.” 

Shoma blinked slowly and stared back at Dai blankly. The blush was definitely creeping up his jawline now. He’d been naively hoping Dai would have left it at the knowing glance and never mentioned he’d overheard them ever again. The embarrassment walloped him all over again, but he somehow managed to give Dai a small smile and nod in return.  
  
“Sure, I’ll ask him.” Shoma mumbled, already mentally rehearsing the answers to all of the potentially humiliating questions Dai would almost definitely be asking later.

Dai slapped him again on the back. “Good man. I’ll shoot you a message tonight.”

Shoma nodded and stood up, gesturing towards the ice with a tilt of his head. “Okay. I should um.”  
  
Dai nodded back and lifted one hand from tying his skates to wave. “Yeah, yeah, of course, see you out there.”

Shoma bowed slightly and hurried towards the ice, mind racing. He had just enough time to realize and regret his actions as his feet slipped out from underneath him. His ass hit the ice first, thankfully, but his back wasn’t long after. Not hard enough to knock the wind out of him, but hard enough to be annoying. He managed to save the back of his head from slamming against it too, but only just. He was still cursing under his breath and trying to ignore the laughter and playful shouts from around the rink when he heard the sound of blades carving against ice as someone came to stop, shavings flying up and speckling the leg of his training bottoms. A slender, delicate hand he recognized immediately appeared extended above him. Shoma grimaced and looked up to meet Yuzuru’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” Yuzuru asked softly. He was biting back his own laughter, but there was a genuine concern in his gaze. The way he was bent over, his fringe was hanging forward and framing his features in a way that made Shoma’s heart skip a beat. Shoma curled his own fingers into his palm tightly for a moment before reaching up to place his hand in Yuzuru’s.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He muttered, squeezing Yuzuru’s hand for support as he pushed himself up onto his feet. “Only hurt my pride.”

“There’s not a single person here who hasn’t done that before. It happens.” Yuzuru shrugged and slipped his arm around Shoma’s waist to help steady him. Shoma placed his free hand on Yuzuru’s shoulder and looked at him with gratitude, squeezing his hand quickly before letting go to start removing the guards from his skates. Yuzuru smiled and squeezed his hip gently in return, Shoma hated the way it made his stomach flip.

“True,” Shoma murmured, placing his guards on the barrier. He looked up at Yuzuru bashfully and dropped his hand to Yuzuru’s waist for quick squeeze back before letting go. “Thanks.”

Yuzuru nodded and let his arm fall back to his side as well. Shoma was a little surprised when Yuzuru kept pace skating beside him while he started his warm-up laps, but he didn’t complain. It was sort of nice. Yuzuru’s presence both excited and calmed him. Every hair felt like it was standing on end around him, electric and enigmatic and unpredictable, a wild, rolling thunderstorm of a human being. And yet, something inside of him stilled. Quiet and peaceful, comfortable, as if his presence was meant to be by Shoma’s side all along, tranquil and soothing.

Shoma had grown in leaps and bounds over the past year and half, in skating and confidence, and didn’t necessarily need Yuzuru to protect him from anyone or anything, but the gesture was still nice. Shoma had achieved a bit of a royalty status himself in the skating world, but still, no one else was the Yuzuru Hanyu. The snickers quieted faster than they normally would have, though Stephane and Johnny still gave him a sympathetic look as they skated past where the two were leaning against the barrier. Yuzuru’s presence beside him was a silent but strong way to tell everyone to shut up and stop laughing. It was...sweet. It made Shoma feel slightly hopeful.

He didn’t want to break the comfortable silence, but if he didn’t ask now he might not get the chance. Shoma looked up at Yuzuru and smiled. His heart skipped another beat when Yuzuru smiled back.

“Um...Dai invited us to karaoke later. Me and you.” Shoma managed to stammer out, eyes scanning rapidly over Yuzuru’s face to gauge his reaction. “I think it would be nice, if we...if we did. Join him. I hate karaoke but...”

Yuzuru’s face fell, lips pressing into a tight, thin line and eyes suddenly dim, distant. “You know I can’t.” He said curtly, as if Shoma were an idiot. Shoma felt the bitterness surging up again, like bile up the back of his throat, coating everything sweet he’d just felt with a sicker, darker taste.  
  
“I don’t know that you can’t.” Shoma muttered, casting his eyes back down on the ice in front of him. “But I figured that you won’t.”

Yuzuru snorted and looked around the rink as they both slowed to a stop. Probably looking for Javi. Shoma felt his annoyance rising again too. Stupid, to let his guard down, even for a moment. To let himself hope.

“Well. I’m gonna go anyway. Dai wants to catch up.”

Yuzuru shrugged, voice nonchalant, eyes still scanning the ice around them. “You can do whatever you want.”

“Wasn’t asking permission.” Shoma let his annoyance show in his voice, and something indecipherable flickered over Yuzuru’s face. It happened so quickly, Yuzuru’s stony expression now like it hadn’t happened at all, he couldn’t place what it was. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he even cared.  “Later, Yuzuru.”

Shoma didn’t look back as he skated off again to finish warming up. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Of course Yuzuru wouldn’t come. That would be crossing whatever invisible line in the sand he’d drawn and refused to discuss ever since. He sighed and rolled his neck. _You can do whatever you want._

Shoma ran his tongue out over his bottom lip, thinking. He didn’t mean that. If he pressed him on it, made him react...maybe then, maybe he could spur him into action. Into realizing just what he stood to lose. Maybe Yuzuru’s jealousy was the key, the way to get him to admit he felt something, anything for Shoma. That he wanted him all to himself. Thinking of one particular way Yuzuru may react sent a delighted little shiver up Shoma’s spine. Yuzuru wasn’t the only one who could be calculating. Besides, giving Yuzuru a taste of his own medicine would be satisfying. Being forced to watch Shoma flirt with someone else, and not being able to react. He glanced around the rink, eyeing up his options.

Daisuke was almost too easy. Shoma didn’t think he’d be able to compose himself enough to flirt with him anyway, but he wouldn’t need to. All he’d have to do is be his natural, bashful self around his first idol and let Dai coo proudly and fondly over him and Yuzuru would be silently fuming. Pair that with the fact they’d be drinking together later and it was almost too perfect. Almost. Definitely Dai. His eyes flitted over to who Dai was chatting with now...Nobu...definitely not. The danger with Nobu would be Nobu energetically, exaggeratedly flirting back for comedic effect, and Shoma would almost certainly wind up in a squealing embarrassed puddle on the ice, potentially fending off an actual dramatically romantic Nobu from planting one on him. No way. He wanted to make Yuzuru seethe with jealousy, not buckle over with laughter.

He glanced over to where Johnny and Stephane were still perching and talking excitedly. Neither one would be an option. That wouldn’t even be hard mode, it would be nightmare mode. He was pretty sure they still saw him as an adorable little child no matter what he did. Mura was here, and Mura was cute, but Mura would probably look at him with confusion, ruffle his hair and give him a fist bump, which wouldn’t be enough to really rile Yuzuru up. Nathan would have been a great option but he wasn’t here. Boyang wasn’t here either, but Shoma couldn’t even imagine either of them keeping a straight face long enough to pull it off.

Shoma began to run through the steps for the opening number idly, mind still occupied with his plan. Some of the girls were here too, but most of them were too young for him to feel comfortable even pretend to flirt with, and the others were too much like sisters, not to mention Yuzuru probably wouldn’t be phased in the slightest, because he knew better than anyone that Shoma wouldn’t be interested in any of them in _that_ way and-

“Hey, Shoma!”  
  
Keiji slid to a stop in front of him, startling him out of his thoughts. Keiji. Shoma tilted his head to the side and lifted one hand in a tiny wave. _Keiji._ Keiji had always been like an older brother, or even a mom to Shoma. Looking after him, nagging him, teaching him, guiding him. He’d been the constant in Shoma’s life, while Yuzuru became distant, the enigma, the idol, far away and untouchable. Keiji had stayed the same. Close.

Keiji lifted one hand to brush the hair back from his eyes and smiled. Shoma smiled back.

“Keiji, hi.”

Keiji. It should be easy enough. They were already close, and affection came easily between them. He’d never really looked Keiji like _that_ before, not more than in passing, in particularly intense flashes of sexual frustration, and he’d always shoved the thoughts away as quickly as they came. But Keiji was handsome. Strong, high cheekbones. A sharp, chiseled jawline. Tall, at least, tall to Shoma, with a nice, broad chest, sturdy arms. It felt a little weird, to be looking at Keiji like this. But this would be simple. He wouldn’t even have to do much, it would be easy, Keiji probably wouldn’t even notice. But Yuzuru would.

“You off in Shoma world again?” Keiji asked gently, ruffling his hair briefly before flicking his nose. “Everything okay?”  
  
Shoma grimaced and shoved lightly at Keiji’s chest, letting his fingers draw back last. He curled them then, in the fabric of Keiji’s top and skated just a little bit closer, looking up at Keiji with wide, doe eyes. “More or less...hey, will you help me with something?”

Keiji just raised an eyebrow, silently encouraging Shoma to finish asking.

“You know the skate we do with the girls? At the end? Can you show me the spinning thing you do with Kanako? I wanna try it with Satoko, but like...can you show me? Like I’m Kana?” Shoma asked, thinking on the spot. He laughed at the confused face Keiji made. Loud. Loud enough.

“You want to be the girl? You know it’s just, like, twizzles right?” Keiji shook his head, chuckling. “Alright, weirdo. Come here.”  
  
_Perfect._ Shoma smiled coyly to himself as he turned around and let Keiji guide him. Keiji gripped his hips and pulled him backwards until they bumped together, both giggling. Shoma’s pulse quickened slightly as he placed his hand over the hand Keiji left placed on his right hip. Not because of Keiji, not his touch or the warmth of him. But from the eyes he could already feel burning into his back. Shoma lifted his left arm and extended it out across Keiji’s chest, grinning up at him as he took his hand. He’d definitely fill Keiji in later on just how good a friend he was being without knowing it right now. A couple of whistles rang out across the rink as they began to skate, Kanako yelled something across the ice about Shoma stealing her partner and the girls burst into peals of laughter. Good.

Shoma turned effortlessly on one foot to go into the mirrored spiral. He knew the steps well enough by now, there was never anything too complicated in group ice show choreography, but this was a perfect way to start raising Yuzuru’s blood pressure. Keiji pulled him back in to set him up for the spin, Shoma twirling expertly back into his arms. He chewed on his lower lip and nodded attentively as Keiji coached him through what it required, even though he’d figured it out just by watching already. It was easy, really, just getting helped into a twizzle, but he played along.

A few of the other skaters clapped as Shoma spun across the ice. He laughed and bowed to Keiji, skating over to the barrier where Dai was now standing as Keiji motioned he was stepping off for a moment. He could still feel Yuzuru’s gaze burning into him. Good. Shoma ran his fingers through his hair and tilted his head to the side, looking up at Dai with a shy smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Shoma.”

“Um, Yuzuru can’t make it later, but I’m still coming.” Shoma said, dropping his hand to rub the side of his neck with a feigned idleness.

“Trouble in paradise?” Dai teased.

Shoma felt himself starting to blush again. “It’s not really like that.” He mumbled, glancing around nervously to make sure they were still out of earshot of anyone else.

Dai got the hint and clapped a hand onto Shoma’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You can tell me all about it tonight, eh?”

Shoma groaned and looked pleadingly at Dai. “Do I have to?”

“Least you could do after waking me up the other night.” Dai fired back with a wink, laughing as Shoma’s eyes widened and the flush across his jaw turned a much deeper red. He patted Shoma’s shoulder again and skated off to meet Nobu on the other side of the rink.  
  
Shoma slapped his hands up to cover his burning cheeks and scooted quickly off to the side towards the nearest gate. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Dai knowing wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it was maybe the most embarrassing. Technically, he hadn’t exactly told Dai. Techncially, Yuzuru did. Shoma sighed and pressed his fingers against his eyes as he stepped off the ice, rubbing gently. The only person he’d told on purpose about whatever was going on between him and Yuzuru was Keiji, and Keiji was sworn to secrecy under threat of imminent death. He was pretty sure Yuzuru had told Javi, at least, but there wasn’t exactly a good way to ask either of them.

Speaking of Keiji...Shoma spotted him sitting on a nearby bench, chatting casually with Akiko and Mura. He glanced quickly behind him to make sure Yuzuru was still on the ice as inspiration struck. Good. He quickly snapped his guards on over his blades and with a face like butter wouldn’t melt, he strolled over to Keiji and plopped down into his lap.

Keiji made a startled noise and his hands flew up to grip Shoma’s hips instinctively. Akiko and Mura didn’t bat an eye, nodding to Shoma and continuing their conversation. Shoma smiled and wiggled around to get comfortable. He hadn’t casually sat down in Keiji’s lap for a long time now, maybe even years, but no one present was going to raise an eyebrow, used to it from the years spent growing up around each other. Except Yuzuru, of course, but that was the point.

And, now, Keiji, who leaned in close to Shoma’s ear and hissed, “Are you trying to get me killed?!”

“Mmm, no, that would be a most unfortunate casualty, but if you could keep whispering in my ear _exactly_ like that that would be great.” Shoma whispered back.

“Are you insane?! Your boyfriend is staring at me like he wants to do nothing more than kick me to death with his skates _right_ now.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, that’s the point.” Shoma snapped, blowing his fringe back from his eyes with annoyed huff of breath.  
  
“Still?! Oh my god, is this a sex thing?!” Keiji whispered furiously with fresh horror apparent in his tone, “Are you using me as a pawn in some weird sex thing because I will actually murder yo-”  
  
“Keiji! No! Kind of.” Shoma laughed as Keiji moved as if he were going to to shove him forwards in a tumble off his lap, pressing back against him to fight it, “No, stop! Look. Listen. Listen! I’m making him realize he cares about me by showing him how jealous he is. Then maybe he’ll finally...you know...”  
  
Keiji sighed, reaching up with one hand to pinch and rub the bridge of his nose. “Have you two - hear me out, I know this sounds crazy - have you considered, I don’t know, just talking to each other? Like normal, rational human beings?”

“He won’t talk to me.” Shoma murmured.  
  
“Still? I swear, the two of you are equal parts nightmare and you deserve each other. You owe me dinner and at least three beers for this, provided Yuzuru doesn’t corner me and strangle me to death with my own costume later.”

“Thanks Keiji. I really owe you one.” Shoma grinned and planted a lightning-quick kiss on Keiji’s cheek. He jumped to his feet as Keiji sputtered. He didn’t have to glance around to check if Yuzuru had seen, he could still feel the furious heat from his stare burning into him. Shoma waddle-ran as quickly as he could in his skate guards towards the backstage to escape Keiji’s wrath, a tiny involuntary shudder running through him as he pictured what Yuzuru’s face must look like right now.

\---

Shoma collapsed backwards onto his bed with a flourish, letting his arms bounce off the mattress before flopping them out to the sides. He was exhausted. Giddy, but exhausted. The show had gone well, really well. He was skating second to last on this tour, since Yuzuru was here, but he didn’t mind. He’d gotten much better at dealing with pressure ever since Pyeongchang, but it was always nice to relax a little in Yuzuru’s shadow when the chance arose. He hadn’t fallen at all, hadn’t forgotten any steps, despite the tension in his gut and the anticipation thrumming through his veins with every heartbeat. Yuzuru was mad. _So_ mad. He wasn’t sure anyone else knew Yuzuru well enough to tell - Javi, Keiji, definitely - maybe some of Yuzuru’s older former teammates. He hid it well, but it was blatantly clear to Shoma in every tight-lipped forced smile Yuzuru cast at Dai, at Keiji. Every flicker of anger across his face when he crossed paths with Shoma, or had to interact with him like nothing was wrong. It had felt like steam, coming off of his body, seeping into Shoma’s. Yuzuru was _seething_.

There should have been an hour at least before Dai was due to summon him to karaoke, so Shoma was surprised to hear a series of rapid knocks on the door. Even more surprised when he opened it to find Yuzuru, face hardened with anger and eyes staring daggers, hair still slicked back and styled from his last performance. Shoma blinked slowly and stepped aside to let him in, closing the door gently behind him, fingertips trembling slightly on the door handle. 

“Yuzuru-” Shoma started as he turned to face him, but Yuzuru cut him off, grabbing his wrists and shoving him backwards until he hit the wall. His head bounced off it, gently, more from the surprise than the impact he let out a tiny “ow” and glowered back at Yuzuru, who now moved Shoma’s wrists up against the wall, framing his head, pinning him there. 

“What the fuck was that today? Just what the fuck were you trying to do?” Yuzuru questioned in a deadpan tone that betrayed just how furious he really was. 

Shoma’s lips curled up at one side slowly into a confident smirk, well aware he was currently holding the upper hand and relishing in it as he parroted Yuzuru’s earlier words back to him. “ _Whatever I want_.” 

Yuzuru’s eyes darkened and he stepped closer - but not close enough - body infuriatingly still a few inches away, but close enough Shoma could feel the heat rising off it, rising between them. 

“You really want to run around throwing yourself at anyone who looks your way, is that it? That’s what you want? Really?” 

Shoma raised his chin and stared defiantly back at Yuzuru, but said nothing. 

“That’s not it, is it? You want to piss me off? To make me tell you what you can and can’t do, like you’re some sort of dog, like I’m your owner?”

Shoma tsk’ed sharply. “I don’t want you to own me.” He tilted his head, gaze unflinching. “Maybe I just want you to claim me.” 

Yuzuru laughed bitterly, short and sharp, moving forward to press his body tightly against Shoma’s, pushing him firmly now up against the wall. Shoma sucked in his breath but his gaze still didn’t waver. Yuzuru paused for a minute, eyes scanning up and down Shoma’s face before he spoke. “I don’t have to.” 

Shoma stared determinedly back, voice dripping with cold. “Coward.” 

Yuzuru’s brow furrowed immediately in anger, and he dug his nails into Shoma’s wrists, eliciting a sharp gasp. “Take that back.” 

“Make me.” Shoma fired back, and suddenly Yuzuru’s lips were crashing down onto his own, hard and frantic. 

Shoma gasped for breath against Yuzuru’s frenzied mouth, feeling the bulge in Yuzuru’s track pants firmly against his own growing arousal. He tried to roll his hips but Yuzuru shoved against him even harder, a tiny, frustrated moan escaping his lips. A shock of pain coursed through him - bright, white and hot - the pungent taste of copper spreading over his tongue and it took a moment to register that Yuzuru had bitten him, hard enough to break a little bit of the already rough skin of his permanently chapped lips. Yuzuru drew back, panting heavily and eyes wild, dropping Shoma’s wrists, a smear of blood across his own lower lip, in the crease of his mouth. Shoma lifted one hand gingerly to his own lips, patting gently at the small tear along the fuller bottom lip, pain fading to a dull throb already. He glanced down at the small dots of red on his fingertips, then back up to Yuzuru, feeling the electricity in the air, and a shift, something darker now emerging to occupy the space between them, something hungry. Yuzuru looked him dead in the eyes as he snaked his tongue out to lick the blood away from his own lips, to taste it. Something snapped in Shoma, something feral, something dark and needy and careless, and he threw himself forward against Yuzuru with a primal moan, reaching up to twist his fingers in Yuzuru’s hair and pull his head back down, down into more hard and breathless kisses. 

Yuzuru grunted and balled his fists into the fabric of Shoma’s shirt, yanking him now towards the bed, pausing at the edge. He broke the kiss and stared down at Shoma, rubbing his own mouth with the back of his hand before gently reaching up to touch the broken skin on Shoma’s lip with his thumb. Shoma’s breath shuddered and he closed his eyes as Yuzuru traced his lip delicately, tenderly. There was a tiny pang when he brushed against the sore spot, but the bleeding had already stopped. 

“Get on the bed.” Yuzuru whispered hoarsely, pulling his own t-shirt off and over his head before flinging it aside. Shoma swallowed hard and did the same, shrugging his sweatpants and boxers off too, enjoying the way Yuzuru looked him up and down, before sitting down on the mattress and shuffling up towards the pillows. Yuzuru wasn’t long after him, kicking off his shoes and peeling off his bottom layers, flinging them away in the same haphazard method he had his t-shirt and crawling purposefully towards where Shoma lay waiting. This was rare, for Yuzuru to be so dominant, so commanding, it made Shoma’s head spin and his body tremble with anticipation. 

Yuzuru braced himself on his right arm above Shoma, using his free hand to rub his fingertips along Shoma’s lip again, to tap the beauty marks on his cheek before grabbing his chin and tilting his head back. 

“Open your mouth.” 

Shoma complied, and Yuzuru let got of his chin to hook two fingers in Shoma’s mouth, tugging at his cheek before sliding them in. Shoma moaned and closed his lips around Yuzuru’s fingers, never breaking eye contact. Yuzuru began to slide his fingers slowly in and out and Shoma sucked at them eagerly, occasionally sliding his tongue around them in a way that made Yuzuru’s breath hitch. 

Yuzuru didn't break eye contact as he withdrew his fingers from Shoma’s mouth and moved them immediately down to circle around his entrance before pressing gently, teasing, smirking when Shoma let out an involuntary gasp. 

“Do you know why I don't have to claim you, Sho?” He began calmly, pressing more firmly so just the tips of his fingers pushed inside. Shoma bit his lip to suppress any embarrassing sounds and stared evenly back at Yuzuru. Now it was Yuzuru who was cold, confident. He pressed in further, down to the second knuckle, and Shoma’s hips twitched. He leaned in closer, face hovering just out of reach, so close Shoma could feel his breath against his lips. Shoma didn't move, didn't flinch. Yuzuru’s fingers stayed irritatingly still. Closer, so now their lips were just barely touching. 

“It's because you're already mine, down to your very bones. And you know I don't share.” He whispered, and then crushed his lips hard against Shoma’s, simultaneously thrusting both fingers deeper inside, down to the last knuckle. Shoma cried out, but it was muffled by Yuzuru’s mouth, which he quickly fell into kissing furiously back, gasping for air in the spaces between, head swimming. Yuzuru found the spot he was looking for, pressing against it and humming in approval as Shoma bucked up and moaned helplessly into his mouth. 

Yuzuru broke the kiss and pulled back to stare triumphantly down at Shoma, fingers still driving in and out, still brushing against the sweetest spot and reducing Shoma to panting, writhing, Yuzuru’s bold words still ringing in his ears and circling in his brain. Shoma clutched the hotel quilt between his fingers as he drew them into fists. He wouldn’t let him. Couldn’t let him. 

“Yuzuru...ah...do you really think…” Shoma steeled his nerves, and his gaze, glaring up at Yuzuru through half-lidded eyes, “Do you really think...that I’m in love with you...just because you can fuck me real good?” 

The corner of Yuzuru's lips twitched into a frown, eyes narrowed. “Shut up.” He sat back on his heels, pulling his fingers out of Shoma slowly, deliberately. “Lube.” 

“Drawer.” Shoma croaked as he fought to even out his own harried breaths. His heart was racing, surprised at his own venom. He wasn't sure what this meant, what he meant, to Yuzuru, but his words, barbs, had hit a nerve. Good. 

There wasn't much time to think about it before Yuzuru was back and kneeling in front of him, the click of the cap from the bottle of lube deafening in the silence between them. He couldn’t stop himself from adding more fuel to the fire. “Maybe you’ve been reading too much manga, if you think that’s how it works.” 

Yuzuru snorted and tossed the bottle aside. “You’re one to talk.” And then there were three fingers pressing into Shoma, cold and slick against the burn from the stretch, making him gasp and his head roll back. Yuzuru didn’t relent, one hand clamping down hard on Shoma’s thigh, squeezing tight, while the other shoved in and out of him. Shoma bit down on his lip, hard, trying to stifle a moan and failing. Yuzuru leaned forward again, moving the arm from his thigh to brace himself over Shoma, lips dropping down to brush against his jaw, then nip. His fingers slowed to stop, stilled, withdrew, so Yuzuru could plant his hand opposite the other. 

“You really want Dai to fuck you, huh? Or Keiji? God, you piss me off.” Yuzuru mumbled in his ear. 

He shifted his weight to center himself and then, forward, pressing his hardened abdomen down against Shoma’s straining erection, eliciting a startled whine at the sudden contact. He moved his lips to trail along his jawbone, down to his neck. Shoma licked at his dry lips, wondered if Yuzuru could feel his pulse thrumming against his. 

“Do you really think…” Yuzuru kissed the crook of his neck, shifted one arm up to tangle his fingers in Shoma’s hair. “Anyone else can know you like I do?” 

Shoma curled his fingers into tighter fists around the blankets, fighting the urge to let his hands rise to squeeze into Yuzuru’s shoulders, to run down his back, or paw needily at his hip. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But Yuzuru knew that, and Yuzuru tightened his grip in Shoma’s hair and yanked his head suddenly to the side, biting down, hard, on the tender skin of Shoma’s neck, simultaneously grinding his hips down, hard, his cock pressing firmly against Shoma’s inner thigh. Pain, pleasure, coursed through Shoma’s body like an electric shock and his body jolted, hands flying up to claw for purchase on Yuzuru’s back against his will. Yuzuru laughed at the obscene, broken noise that tore itself from Shoma’s throat. 

“You think anyone else can you make you feel like this? Can make you come apart the way I do?” Yuzuru kissed the angry red skin on Shoma’s neck, then gave a small cat-like lick before moving his head back up to gaze down at Shoma, expectant. Shoma glared evenly back at him, dragging his nails lightly up his back, around his shoulders. A tiny shiver ran through Yuzuru as Shoma moved his hands up his neck, then cupped his face. He stroked his thumb, still shaking but his pressure firm, idly across Yuzuru’s bottom lip, then harder, pulling it left, then right, exposing his teeth before letting go to swipe it back across his cheek.    
  
Shoma tilted his head on the pillow and smiled, as sweetly, innocently, as he could manage. “I don’t know. But I could find out.” 

Anger immediately twisted Yuzuru’s features and he pushed Shoma’s hands away from his face, leaning back on his heels and roughly grabbing Shoma’s thighs, shoving them apart further and lining himself up with Shoma’s entrance, beginning to press in. 

“Ah! Yuzuru-”  
  
“Stop it.” Yuzuru hissed, “Stop calling me that. It’s too formal. Call me like you used to.”  
  
Shoma smirked, like a cat who got the cream. So he _had_ noticed. Even better, he’d been _annoyed._ How long had it bothered him? Did it simmer in his gut every time Shoma said his name? Shoma knew exactly what he wanted to hear, but it wouldn’t be like him to give in without a fight. “Mmmm,” He breathed as Yuzuru pushed in deeper, long eyelashes fluttering rapidly before he steadied his gaze, looking Yuzuru directly in the eye. “Hanyu- _senshu_ ?”  
  
“Stop it.” Yuzuru growled, shoving in deeper before pausing to let Shoma adjust, breath starting to grow ragged. “You know what I mean.” 

“Ah, sorry, Hanyu- _san_ .” Shoma jabbed again, smirk still tugging at his lips, eyes wide and dancing with mischief. Yuzuru didn’t respond this time, just leaned over to bracket Shoma, shifting his hips slightly forward again. Shoma sighed at the feeling and let his hands flit up to rest lightly on Yuzuru’s waist, dancing up over his ribs and back down again.  
  
“Mmm, no, not it? Hanyu- _sama_? Ah!” Shoma cried out sharply as Yuzuru snapped his hips forward, all the way in, making his head spin. Yuzuru bowed his head down to chase Shoma’s lips, kissing him hard, seizing the opportunity of Shoma’s breathless gasp to lick forcefully into his mouth. Shoma moaned and let him in, meeting Yuzuru’s tongue with his own with a desperate sort of urgency as his body adjusted to sensation of being full. Yuzuru didn’t give him very long before he started to move, slow, steady. He broke the kiss and Shoma couldn’t stop a small, needy whine from escaping. Yuzuru’s eyes were dark, pupils blown. He pushed himself up onto his hands and started to move with more purpose. 

“I’ll make you say it. Is that what you want? I’ll make it so you can’t say anything else.” 

It was more of a promise than a threat, but Shoma still couldn’t stop himself from snapping back, “You can try.” 

Yuzuru grunted and a focused look Shoma knew all too well from years of sharing the ice in competition came over his face. Shoma let his hands fall lower, over the slight curves of Yuzuru’s hips, brushing over the swell of his ass as he increased his pace. Still steady, still rhythmic, but faster. Shoma clamped his hands down firmly now over Yuzuru’s ass, nails digging in and pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. Yuzuru took the hint and thrust in deep on his next stroke, grunting again at the effort and gasping at the feel. He hit exactly the spot Shoma wanted him too, and Shoma saw stars, crying out so loud his voice cracked. His face was hot, flushed, and he was suddenly very aware of how he must look, chest heaving, eyes wild, strands of hair sticking to his brow already from the sweat. He pressed the side of his face into the pillow, cheeks burning, throwing one arm up to cover himself.  
  
“Oh no. You don’t get to do that.” Yuzuru muttered, voice hoarse with arousal,  “I want to see you. I want to see that face you make when you fall apart. Look at me.” 

He reached up and grabbed Shoma’s wrist, pulling it away from his face and pinning it now beside his head. His thrusts stayed maddeningly consistent, albeit not as deep, keeping all of Shoma’s nerves constantly aflame. He shifted his weight to that arm so he could lift the other to trace down Shoma’s jawline, grasp his chin between his fingers. Shoma moaned again, low in his throat, as Yuzuru turned his head back to face him and let his fingers slide down, pausing over Shoma’s freshly marked neck. He tapped his fingers gently against the skin there, tilting his head inquisitively at Shoma, seeking consent. 

Shoma stared up at him blearily, head still lost in a fog of pleasure tinged with pain. “Do it.” 

Yuzuru knew Shoma liked this, the thrill of it, the sensations, the adrenaline rush it gave them both. They’d had enough time together, doing this, that they’d been able to explore, to test their own boundaries, find what they liked most, how to drive each other to the point of delirium. They’d discovered this particular kink after the Grand Prix Final, when Yuzuru hadn’t skated clean and Shoma had, beating him for the gold by a narrow margin. Yuzuru had been a storm of emotion, fighting through his own bitter disappointment, frustration and regret, juggling and trying to balance them against his happiness for Shoma, his pride in him. They had both gotten drunk that night, one desperate to lose control, the other desperate to take it. Shoma still remembered the way Yuzuru had looked at him that night, eyes a heady mixture of fondness, arousal and the desire to tear him apart. 

Yuzuru fanned his fingers out across Shoma’s neck and squeezed. Shoma made a sound between a gasp and a sigh, his still free hand drifting up to gently clutch Yuzuru’s wrist. 

“Are you going to say it?” Yuzuru murmured, toying with the pressure of his fingertips. 

Shoma smiled sweetly up at him. “No.” 

Yuzuru narrowed his eyes and bore down, making Shoma gasp for breath and his eyes roll back. He kept his thrusts torturously slow, even and just shy of where Shoma really wanted him. He could feel his pulse hammering against Yuzuru’s fingertips and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Reflexive tears pricked the corners of his eyes, blurring the vision of Yuzuru above him. He could feel the the fire clawing up his lungs, up his throat. The sweet clash of the pressure on his neck, the burning in his lungs, against the arousal coiled tight in his belly and the constant waves of pleasure coursing through his every nerve, every inch. His head stopped swimming, started to float, weightless, up, away, and... 

There. That was enough. Shoma tapped his fingers against Yuzuru’s wrist - one, two, three. Yuzuru let go immediately and stilled at the same moment. Shoma’s chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath, panting heavily, eyes blinking rapidly. He could feel the sweat beading, dripping from his brow. 

“Beautiful,” Yuzuru whispered, voice soft and full of awe, hand flitting up to cup Shoma’s cheek. The sudden tenderness was jarring. Shoma pressed his face into Yuzuru’s palm and barked out a sharp, shaky laugh edging on a sob. _Unfair._ His breaths trembled, small puffs against Yuzuru’s palm before he moved it, fingers curling up to gingerly brush strands of Shoma’s fringe back from his sweat-slicked brow. He released Shoma’s wrist and ran his hands slowly, particularly, down Shoma’s body, touch feather-light and almost ticklish. Shoma let his eyes flutter shut as his breaths evened out, focusing on the sensation. He didn’t flinch when Yuzuru tickled the backs of his knees, just drew his knees up in reflex. But his eyes snapped open when Yuzuru’s fingers closed around his ankles and yanked his legs up, pushing himself up onto his knees in the same motion and pulling Shoma’s legs tight against his chest.   

Startled, overwhelmed, he cried out before he had time to stop himself. 

“Yuzu...” 

He’d expected a victorious smirk, a smug look of satisfaction. He hadn’t expected a look of relief in Yuzuru’s eyes, or a warm, happy smile on his lips. Or the softness in his voice when he prodded, “Was that really so hard?” It hurt worse. 

The new angle was deeper, and so were Yuzuru’s thrusts - deeper, harder, merciless. Shoma twisted his arms up and underneath the pillows, desperate to clutch something solid in his fists. Yuzuru’s name poured out of him now, like something caged had been released, freed. He couldn’t stop. “Yuzu...Yuzu...Yuzu…” It was all he could think now, it filled his mind, and it rolled out from his lips, again and again, higher and higher as Yuzuru moved faster. 

“Sho…” Yuzuru let out his own groan as he maneuvered one arm to hold Shoma's legs against him so he could reach down grasp Shoma's cock with the other, to squeeze and stroke it firmly in as close a rhythm to his thrusts as he could manage as they both came undone. 

That was enough to send Shoma over the edge, his feelings reaching a crescendo along with his cries, back arching up off the mattress as he reached his peak, Yuzuru's name tearing once more from his lips in a final staggered gasp. He felt the warm drops of his own release splatter against his chest, messy, dirty, but he didn't care. He couldn't, wouldn't, look away from Yuzuru now, as his pace stuttered and his mouth fell slack, body stilling, quivering, then shuddering with his own release, with a final grunt. Shoma, still sensitive, whimpered from the intense feel of Yuzuru pulsing, spilling inside of him. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten this sensation and the accompanying blissful feeling it could draw from him. 

Yuzuru gently guided Shoma’s legs back down onto the mattress and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, still breathless. Shoma hummed and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the fond and satisfied smile on Yuzuru’s face, it was too much, too confusing, too painful. Not now. But he still couldn't suppress a sigh when Yuzuru pulled out, couldn’t stop his heart from aching when that made Yuzuru chuckle and pause to kiss his cheek, twice, once on each beauty mark. 

The springs creaked as Yuzuru pushed himself off the bed, padding over to the bathroom and back, and again as he climbed back on, kneeling down next to Shoma now. Shoma flinched and opened his eyes instinctively when he felt something rough rubbing against his chest. It took a moment to register that Yuzuru was wiping him down with a towel. A painful lump rose in Shoma’s throat that he knew he couldn’t swallow. 

“See, Sho?” Yuzuru said as he finished wiping Shoma down, casually tossing it aside to the floor, still smiling. “I don't just keep you around for no reason.” 

“Yuzu…” Shoma winced as his voice cracked, throat still painfully dry. “You don't…” 

“Hm?” Yuzuru blinked and looked curiously down at Shoma. 

Shoma swallowed and wet his lips, then mumbled, “You don't keep me around at all.” 

Yuzuru’s face crumpled. To Shoma’s surprise, he actually looked wounded. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Shoma shook his head and sat up, scooting to the end of the bed. “I'm gonna shower.”

Yuzuru made a small affirmative noise but didn't say anything else as Shoma stood up and stretched, then shuffled toward the bathroom. When he glanced back before closing the door, Yuzuru was still kneeling on the bed, head bowed and angled away from Shoma, staring intently down at his own hands. Something tightened in Shoma's chest as he quickly shut the door, leaning back against it briefly to take a deep breath, push it out through his nose. “Fuck.” 

His mind swirled as the turned the shower on, room quickly filling with tendrils of steam. The hot water felt cleansing, purifying. He wanted to sink into it, melt. Turn into steam, float away. For once, he didn’t want to talk. He just wanted Yuzuru to go. Everything unspoken felt trapped in his throat, and he felt wildly close to the edge. He didn’t want Yuzuru to see it, to see him break. _What am I to you? What are we? What are we doing?_ He reached up to touch the crook of his neck and winced. He’d probably have to wear a turtleneck tonight. Great. He stood under the water for a minute, chewing thoughtfully on his lip. Was it on purpose? Everything in Yuzuru’s calculations, as usual? A claim without claiming? Just in case? Shoma sighed and brought his hands up to rub his face. Too much. 

Something gnawed on the back of his mind, refusing to remain unacknowledged. Yuzuru was sober. It felt significant. Shoma had been expecting this, in exactly this fashion, bar the unsettling, confusing tenderness, but not now. Much later, after the bar. Both drunk and reckless. What did it mean? 

There wasn’t much time to mull it over now. He had to go back out there. Try to talk. And go meet Dai. He ran over all the things he could say to Yuzuru as he stepped out of the shower and dried off. He was jealous, combative. Maybe even nervous, unsure of how real Shoma’s intention to try going with someone else might be. Maybe he could use it. He started whispering softly to himself, rehearsing, as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “If you don’t care then what are you doing here? Mm. If you don’t care, why are you here? You must care, a litte. You’re scared. Admit it. You don’t wanna lose me. Admit it. Yeah. Okay. If you don’t care...if you don’t care.” He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded to himself in the mirror, then turned for the door. Took a deep breath. 

“Yuzuru-” 

Shoma blinked slowly as the door swung up to reveal an empty bed. Yuzuru was gone. He looked left and right, stupidly, as if Yuzuru would suddenly materialize, or pop out of the dresser. Okay. Okay… 

The buzz of his phone startled him. Shoma glanced towards the floor where he’d discarded his clothes and blinked again. No. Up to the mattress, where Yuzuru had folded his clothes in a neat pile before disappearing. A parting sting. He shuffled over quickly dug through the pockets, fishing it out with trembling fingers. The anxious feeling didn’t really lessen when he saw who it was from. 

_1 New Message_

_ >>Dai: Yo Shoma! See you in 15! _

Thinking about Yuzuru would have to wait. 

\--- 

Shoma quickly realized that thinking about Yuzuru wasn’t going to wait. He smiled when he opened the door to Mura and Dai both leaning on opposite sides of the doorframe, laughed as they tugged him along down the hallway, but in the back of his mind, Yuzuru ran rampant. Haunted him. _You’re already mine. Beautiful. Was that so hard?_ He tried to will the images away but his thoughts kept drifting back, again and again, to the way Yuzuru’s fingers curled in his hair, Yuzuru’s hand around his throat, Yuzuru’s lips pressing softly against the beauty marks on his cheek. Yuzuru’s eyes, dark and pupils wide and full of anger. Yuzuru’s eyes, soft and gentle and full of relief. 

He was still able to laugh and nod along in all the right places in the taxi on the way there, especially with a helpful jab in the side or clap on the shoulder from Dai or Mura, but the spectre of Yuzuru was hard to shake. When they finally reached the bar, Shoma felt lighter. At least now he could get drunk, very drunk, and that could maybe distract him from the tangled feeling in his chest, like birds beating their wings against his ribcage

Shoma settled in to the leather couch between Mura and Dai, grateful for their presence as three Canadians filed into the room - Patrick, Scott, Tessa. Dai had mentioned they were coming, joining the show next weekend as special guests, and that’d they’d arrived early so it’d be good to take them out somewhere. Shoma was relieved that Dai could translate as needed for him, and Mura could provide a sense of solidarity of not knowing what was going on but having to act social anyway. Shoma knew enough English to get by, more than he ever let on to the media, enough to cope with small talk and coaching, but not anywhere near any sort of fluency. Shoma realized he didn’t know how Mura’s English skills were against his own, but figured they wouldn’t be anywhere near Dai’s, a small comfort. He nodded and waved to the Canadians, adding a soft “hi”, as they shuffled along the opposite couch, Tessa and Scott greeting him with a warm familiarity, Patrick a little more awkward but still friendly. 

The group was a weird mix, normal enough for an ice show night out, but not one Shoma would have ever put together in his mind. When the notion that Yuzuru might be annoyed he was out with Patrick crossed his mind, he decided it was definitely time to start drinking, just in time for the first round to arrive. He cheersed his glass against everyone else’s as the night kicked off, settling quickly back into a cozy nook between Mura and Dai to nurse his first drink and watch the others laugh and squabble over who was going to go first, and with what song. Tessa and Scott started off with a duet, Dai helpfully leaning over to explain what it was - “Anything You Can Do” - and why it was funny. Shoma would have laughed along anyway from their exaggerated faces and playful mock fighting but appreciated Dai’s efforts. 

Two drinks later and Shoma was loose enough to quietly sing along when Mura and Dai picked songs in Japanese, but would still giggle and wave his hands and shove away any microphones they tried to offer him. Four drinks in and now he was louder, a little more daring, singing along with the others to any of the words he knew from the English songs too. Patrick moved his tie from his neck up to his head and Shoma laughed harder than he normally would have. The edges of his vision were starting to blur a little, and he felt warm, pleasant, distracted. Until Patrick said something Dai’s lip twitched at but he wouldn’t translate, but Shoma got most of it. _Does Yuzuru still walk around ice shows like he owns the place?_  

“He’s like that with everything.” Shoma muttered in Japanese, throwing the rest of his drink back. Dai frowned and glanced at him with concern, but didn’t comment - or translate it back for Patrick. 

Six drinks in and Shoma still wouldn’t take a microphone, but he had his arms slung around Mura and Dai and somehow had acquired Scott’s hat. Seven, he didn’t need much bribing to get up and dance with Scott and Tessa, and Scott got his hat back at the end. Eight, and the Canadians were leaving, Mura deciding at the last minute to tag along back to the hotel with them. Shoma found he liked hugging everyone goodnight, even Patrick. Everything was still a bit spinny. He plopped down again beside Dai, sinking into the couch as deep as he could. His face felt hot, flushed from the alcohol, and he pressed his glass against each cheek for a few seconds, as if it could help cool him down. Dai fiddled with the remote, selecting another song, but he left the microphones on the table and glanced over at Shoma, clearing his throat. Shoma blinked slowly. Oh no.

“So…” Dai ventured, tone a very clear attempt at casual, “How long have you and Yuzuru been an item?”  
  
“We’re not an item.” Shoma muttered, looking away from Dai, behind him to the words lighting up on the screen. Great. No getting out of this conversation. At least he was drunk enough now he felt a little numb about it all. It made it easier to talk about it.    
  
“Oh?” Dai sounded genuinely surprised.

“We just. You know.” Shoma shrugged and stared so hard at the writing on the screen it started to look a bit squiggly. 

“Oh.” Dai blinked, cocked an eyebrow. “And how’s that working out for you?”  
  
“It’s not. Working.” Shoma sighed and turned his chin to face Dai again. The tight feeling came back to his chest, tickling his ribs. Ah. He wasn’t numb enough that saying it out loud didn’t hurt. He shrugged, taking a big mouthful of his drink before adding. “Better than nothing I guess.” 

“Is that so?” Dai paused for a moment, rubbed his chin as if in contemplation, then took a big swallow of his own drink. He looked away from Shoma, very concentratedly staring at the opposite wall. “You know...I had something sorta like that once.”  
  
Shoma’s eyes widened, curious. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah. We messed around. We danced around it. We danced…” Dai trailed off and his gaze was unfocused, far away. Shoma bit his lip and stared down into his drink, not wanting to interrupt, to pull him away from whoever he was dancing with in his mind. After a moment, Dai pulled himself back, shaking his head and clearing his throat, continuing. “Sometimes, people, feelings...they’re more delicate than you realize. More breakable. Just be careful, yeah? For yourself, too.” Dai reached over to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and offer him a small, sympathetic smile. “What’s the saying...you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone? It’s annoying because it’s usually true.”  
  
“Can’t lose anything if you don’t have anything to lose.” Shoma said flatly, swirling his drink around before knocking the rest of it back.

“Yeah, I guess, but...look, don’t sell yourself short, kid.” Dai offered him another smile, reached out and patted his shoulder, shook him a little. But his eyes were still a little faraway, a little sad. Shoma felt like he’d been given a glimpse of something Dai kept safely, possessively tucked away. Something intimate. Something lost. Dai cleared his throat and handed Shoma the remote, reaching for the bar phone. “Pick a song, let’s get a couple more in.”

\---

Shoma couldn't really tell how many songs had passed now, but it had been the rest of his drink and a whole new one since he'd talked about Yuzuru. Dai seemed to be selecting tunes just to keep some kind of atmosphere going, music in the background while he told Shoma stories from his old senior days, the first time they were senior days anyway. Shoma had shuffled closer at some point, and now he was leaning his head comfortably into Dai’s shoulder, enjoying the sturdiness of it, feeling strangely warm, and comforted. Safe.

Something else stirred in Shoma. Something needy. Something spiteful. He squirmed a little closer to Dai, pressing his face more firmly into his shoulder. He smelled good. Strong. Like vanilla and cedar and old leather. It was a bad idea, Shoma knew it was. But he needed. Needed to know that he could. If he wanted. And he wanted. He wanted, frustrated and emboldened by the liquor warming his belly. His body felt like it was buzzing, from the tips of his fingers running up through his arms. Charged, like the air after a thunderstorm. He wanted to prove it, not only to himself, but to Yuzuru. _I could find out._ He could prove Yuzuru wrong. Make him eat his words. 

He glanced up at Dai, eyes trailing over his face. His dark, warm, expressive eyes. His prominent cheekbones, the square of his jaw. The soft, plush swell of his wickedly full lips. He’d been looking up at Dai like this all this time, for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about this before, wondered what it would be like. Thought about it with burning cheeks, eyes squeezed shut, under the cover of night, secret, hands busy under the covers. He'd always looked at Dai with stars in his eyes, and as he grew older, something a little more than that, something a little less pure. His first idol, his first motivation, his first realization. And now, they were here, and they were drunk. Shoma's head and heart were a jumbled mess, a tangle of thorns, he wanted out, and Dai just smelled so _good_ and felt so strong, sturdy, body warm against his cheek and...

Yeah. Fuck it. Shoma turned to lean more fully into Dai and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, just above his collarbone.

Dai stiffened, one hand darting up to catch Shoma’s before he could place it on his chest. “Shoma...what are you doing?”  
  
“Mm?” Shoma breathed into Dai’s shoulder, shaking his hand out of Dai’s grip to place it instead on his leg, pushing himself up a little higher, closer. “You don’t want to?” His heartbeat had quickened so much in his chest it felt like a hummingbird’s wings, frantic and energized, urging him forward with his bad idea and his liquid courage.  
  
Dai barked out a sharp, hoarse laugh, leaning forward to pick up his drink, ignoring the way Shoma was clinging to him now, but not prying him off. “That’s not the issue, Shoma. You don’t want to. Not really. You want to hurt somebody else. And you're pretty drunk. Come on. Knock it off.”  
  
Shoma flinched, but pressed on, undeterred, smothering the sting of rejection blossoming in his chest. “No. I want to. I really do. Like...really.” He pushed himself up onto his knees, planted more kisses - one, two - across Dai’s shoulder, one more to his neck, mumbled against his skin, “I’m not a child anymore.”  
  
“I’m aware of that, but you’re still kinda like my son or something, so...” Dai shook his head, craning his neck away from Shoma, and tilted his head back to finish his drink.  
  
“I can call you daddy if you want.” Shoma offered plainly, simply, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world. 

Dai choked, spitting his drink out across the table and slamming the glass back down as he sputtered. He grabbed Shoma’s wrists and held them up as he turned to face him, voice stern and brow furrowed with a mixture of anger and worry.  
  
“Okay, Shoma, no, what the hell is going on with you? What- oh.” Dai’s voice softened, along with his gaze as Shoma’s lip trembled, tears spilling out from the corners of eyes as he sank down onto his heels. “Hey, hey, hey, Shoma. Hey.”   
  
“Why am I never good enough?” Shoma whispered, eyes wide, hurt and angry, tremble starting to appear in his fingertips, his shoulders.  
  
“Hey, Shoma…” Dai released his wrists, hands moving instead to grip his shoulders, to rub them, an attempt to reassure, to ground, to soothe.  
  
But Shoma couldn’t stop shaking, words tumbling out of him now a mile a minute, drink loosening his tongue and his defenses, tears streaming freely down his face. “Always second. Never first. Never good enough. Never enough. Why can’t I be enough? Why-” 

Dai grabbed him then and pulled him into a tight hug, crushing Shoma into his chest, one hand flying up to cradle his head. Shoma broke, a choked sob forcing its way out of his throat, hands clutching Dai’s shirt and balling into trembling fists as Dai rocked him gently back and forth.  
  
“Why doesn’t anyone love me back?” Shoma managed to whisper against Dai’s chest in-between his sobs.   
  
“Shh, shh. Hey now. That’s not true.” Dai hushed him gently, stroking his hair, brushing the few strands he could behind his ear. “Come on, let’s get you home.” 

\--- 

The ride back in the taxi was silent, bar the radio. Shoma still leaned onto Dai, to hold himself steady against just how much the world was spinning. He was still sniffling, face tucked away, the occasional sob hiccuping out of him. Dai kept a sturdy arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arm reassuringly. Shoma felt nauseous, useless, and completely unworthy. His head was dizzy, blurry. Dai didn’t have to be so good to him, not after what he’d just done, but here he was. Dai helped him step out of the taxi, took his arm to help him in because he was stumbling and weaving a little too much. Wrapped an arm around his shoulders to navigate him towards the correct elevator. 

Shoma finally managed to speak again when they were outside his door, turning in to lean on Dai again, hiding his face, feeling the shame creeping up on him now. 

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry. Fuck.” Shoma’s voice shook as he muttered his apologies. 

“Hey now, hey, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” Dai remained calm, pulling Shoma into another reassuring hug. Shoma made a tiny, comforted “mmph” sound against his chest, rubbing his still wet face on Dai’s shirt. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed, huh?” 

Shoma nodded, face still pressed against Dai’s chest when he felt him go tense. What he couldn’t see was Yuzuru skulking at the other end of the hallway. What he didn’t catch was the way Dai stared him down and shook his head firmly. Nor did he see the way Yuzuru froze, face falling, nodding at Dai and leaning back against the opposite wall as Dai turned and shuffled Shoma towards the door to his room. 

As soon as they were in the door, Shoma felt his legs going to jelly and his stomach heaved. He clapped his hand up over his mouth and stumbled into the bathroom, falling abruptly to his knees over the toilet bowl, making it just in time. He felt a sturdy hand at his back, rubbing up and down and a tiny whine escaped him. His gratitude swelled in his chest alongside his shame. 

He wiped at his face roughly with the back of his hand, let Dai help up stand again on wobbly knees, guide him towards the bed. Dai didn’t speak as he knelt down to help Shoma with his shoes, or when he helped him to lift his legs up to swing them round onto the bed, Dai letting him lie down before he gently but firmly rolled him onto his side. He offered Shoma another smile as he brought a glass of water to leave on the bedside table. Shoma closed his eyes and hummed as Dai reached down to ruffle his hair.

“Get some rest, kid. Don’t freak out in the morning, okay?” Shoma just groaned in response and Dai laughed, relieved, mostly, to see even a glimpse of the fiesty Shoma he knew still there underneath the vulnerability, the outpouring of pain. “I’ll give you a buzz tomorrow...in the afternoon.”  
  
“Dai...thank you.” Shoma managed to mumble, before he was drifting off, breaths deepening moments after Dai had clicked off the light and stepped back outside, closing the door gently behind him.

\--- 

Yuzuru was still leaning against the wall across from their rooms, poised perfectly between two potted fronds when Dai turned around after shutting Shoma’s door. Dai halted in his tracks and stared, no friendlier than he’d been earlier. Yuzuru looked guilty, the dim lighting of the hallway casting shadows that highlighted the way his face twisted. He bit his lip, looked down at his hands and picked at his own fingers. Dai waited patiently for him to look back up and meet his eyes.

Yuzuru took a step forward, “Dai, I-”

“Not now, Yuzu. He needs to sleep it off. Let him rest.” Dai said firmly, coolly.

Yuzuru flinched and ducked his head again, nodding. “Yeah. Okay. Um. I don’t know...what he told you...but is he okay? I...we…” He stumbled over his words, looking anxiously up at Dai as if he would rescue him, fill in the gaps.

Dai sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Yuzuru, I don’t know what’s going on with you two, and it’s none of my business, but whatever it is, you need to sort it out.” He tilted his head and offered a tight, wry smile. “But...you know. Tomorrow.”

“Okay. Um. Night.” Yuzuru mumbled, bowing politely and turning to shuffle down the hall, back towards his own room.

“Night, Yuzu.” Dai sighed, rubbing his neck and walking the short distance to his own door. It really did remind him of his own adventures and misadventures, in life and love. “Idiots.” He whispered to himself with a fond smile as he opened the door to his room, unclear to even himself who he really meant.


	3. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don't want you to hate me.” Yuzuru said softly. 
> 
> Too late and I could never both sprung to Shoma's lips, so he bit them and stayed silent instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, a bit faster this time - this chapter is very time-skippy and I apologize, but I hope it still flows okay. There's no smut to be found here, but you'll get a double-dose in Chapter 4 so I hope you don't mind waiting! Thank you for the wonderful feedback for Chapter 2, it really, really helps me to keep working on this and not to doubt myself so much. 
> 
> I hope this can help function as a bit of character development and world building that shows more of the dynamic between Yuzusho (& friends) and doesn't come off as a filler chaper - let me know what you think :) And as always I love hearing predictions and theories so feel free to share them. Chapter 4 is going to be a bit longer and may take a little longer to write - I hope to have it up within the month. Sorry for the slightly abrupt end to this chapter, but it's so Chapter 4 can start...with a bang. Heheheh. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The 28th time Shoma’s phone vibrated in his pocket was the time that finally woke him up. It happened slowly. The incessant vibrating sensation on his leg was confusing, but as he slowly clicked on around the fog of pain, he registered what it was. The next thing he registered was the sharp, stabbing sensation squarely in the front of his brain. He pressed his face fully into his pillow and groaned, and that’s when he realized his throat was cracking and dry, tongue swollen and thick. He turned his head towards the bedside table with a whimper, peeking out from one eye. Water. There was a full glass of water. Why was there water?

Memories of the night before started trickling back as Shoma reached an arm out to grasp weakly in the direction of the water, too stubborn to move yet. Dai. Dai must have left it there. Dai…

Shoma’s eyes widened and he drew his hand back to slap over his mouth instead. Oh god. Oh _god._

Shame crept up his spine, up his neck, tingling, turning his face a bright, scarlet red, spreading out from his jaw to splotch it’s way up his cheeks.

“Shoma, what the fuck.” He whispered angrily to himself, pressing his fingers hard against his eyes. Great. So much for looking Dai in the face ever again. He wasn’t sure he could even look at himself.

His phone buzzed in his pocket again and Shoma groaned, digging the case out of his pocket, staring at the notifications on his screen with trepidation.

 _11 Missed Calls >> Yuzu-kun_  
_1 Missed Call >> Dai_  
_1 Missed Call >> Itsuki_  
_3 Missed Calls >> Keiji_  
_10 Text Messages >> Yuzu-kun _  
_1 Text Message >> Dai _  
_2 Text Messages >> Keiji_  
  
He bit his lip and opened the messages from Keiji first. _Get up, sleepyhead, we leave in like an hour. Dude, are you alive? Call me when you get up._ Shoma didn’t have to glance at the timestamp to know he had definitely missed the train they’d planned on. He frowned and hovered over the message from Dai, dread forming in the pit of his stomach, before finally clicking.

 _( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ Good morning Shoma-kun! Please don’t worry about last night. Everything is okay. I hope your head doesn’t hurt too much. Yuzu was looking for you, Keiji too. Eat something greasy for your breakfast! See you at the next stop! (Remember to drink some water too)_ _o(^▽^)o_

Shoma rubbed his forehead and sighed. He was grateful for Dai’s patience, but still felt wholly unworthy. And ashamed. He didn’t know what to say or how he would ever speak to him again for that matter, so he sent a dogeza emoji back _._ He rubbed at his face with his free hand, slowly rolling himself over towards the edge of the bed. He waited until he’d managed to sit up and take his first several gulps of the water on the bedside table before looking at his phone again. 10 messages and 11 calls, huh? 

 _> >Are you still out? (´・ω・｀)_  
_ >>Where are you?_  
_ >>I can’t reach Dai either, call me when you see this._  
_ >>Please. I’m sorry._  
_ >>I saw you were crying. What happened? Please talk to me Sho._  
_ >>Sho?_  
_ >>Are you awake yet?_  
_ >>Are you alive???_  
_ >>Please let me in.  
>>I’m gonna come back in an hour._

Shoma squinted at the timestamp on the last text. Nearly an hour ago. He sighed, running his hands quickly through his hair and winced as he stood up, soreness in his hips, legs, making itself known. Great. He shuffled as quickly as he could towards the bathroom, wanting to brush his teeth at the very least before Yuzuru was at the door again. It occurred to him then to text Keiji back so he brushed with one hand and sent Keiji a quick reply with the other. _Sorry. Stuff happened. Will fill you in and get a train later._ He paused for a moment, considering, then sent the same text to Itsuki.

There was a knock on the door just as Shoma had finished splashing water onto his face. He ran his wet hands through his hair and glanced up in the mirror, wincing at how red his eyes still were, at the dark circles and bags underneath them. He looked as shitty as he felt. He grabbed a hand towel from the side of the basin and patted at his face, still dabbing at it lightly with the towel as he opened the door.

There was Yuzuru, standing with his lower lip sucked in under his teeth, being worried back and forth, shifting his weight from foot to foot, with a mish-mash of flowers in one hand, a giant plastic bag from a konbini in the other. He was comfortably dressed in grey sweats, paired with a pale blue v-neck t-shirt, a matching grey hoodie hanging unzipped, hair softer now without as much product, but had still obviously been fiddled with, carefully styled to look casual. Shoma stared blankly and stepped back to let him in, moving the towel up to rub at his hair.

“What are you doing? Did anyone see you? Flowers?” Shoma let all his confusion come out plainly as he shut the door. “Did you miss your train? What’s in the bag? Wha-oof.”

Yuzuru’s chin was digging into his shoulder, front pressing to Shoma’s back and long arms wrapping around him from behind, crossing across his chest and squeezing him tightly.

“Yuzu, what-”

“I’m sorry.” Yuzuru breathed into his ear.

Shoma’s breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes, head still throbbing. “What? Why? Yuzu, I’m very...you know...can you…” He wiggled a little, trying to get Yuzuru to ease his grip, but Yuzuru held firm.

“I said things in anger. I was out of line. I…” Yuzuru hesitated, then reached one hand up up to tug at the collar of the turtleneck Shoma was still wearing, stroking his neck on the way back down to start drawing circles on his chest. “I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Shoma snorted and rolled his eyes, going limp and leaning his weight back onto Yuzuru, trying to knock him off balance so he’d let go. “That was fine. That was hot. I liked that. It’s fine.”

“No, I know that,” Yuzuru said, exasperation starting to show as he stumbled backwards, arms dropping to hold Shoma up by the armpits. “I don’t mean, like...yeah that was hot but I feel like I just...like we’re not in a good place. For that. We should be in...like you know...the mindset.”

“Mmmm,” Shoma said, feeling devilish, tilting his head back to grin up at Yuzuru, “So we can only fuck like that when I get a gold medal and you don’t, huh?”

Yuzuru frowned and let go of one of Shoma’s arms so he could flick his nose. “Brat. No. I mean. We can do that. If we’re not. You know. Really mad. I was really mad. It’s not...I don’t know, Sho.”

Shoma hummed and slid out of the grip of Yuzuru’s other hand to lay on the floor, closing his eyes and flopping his limbs out, still feeling the steady pounding in the front of his skull. Yuzuru hesitated, then knelt down and lifted Shoma’s head gingerly, shuffling forward on his knees and  placing it onto his lap. Shoma let out a shuddery breath as Yuzuru began to stroke his hair, brushing it gently back from his face. It twisted, inside, in his heart, his stomach, a pretty terrible companion to his hangover, but he was too sore, too grateful for the soothing touches to protest.

“I don't want you to hate me.” Yuzuru said softly.

 _Too late_ and _I could never_ both sprung to Shoma's lips, so he bit them and stayed silent instead.

“It just feels like...like I’m losing you, Sho. Like we’re losing...us. You know?”

Shoma opened his eyes to look up at Yuzuru, folding his hands over his chest. “Are...do you...are we gonna talk about it, now?”

Yuzuru froze, fingers pausing on the top ridge of Shoma’s ear. “About our friendship. Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Of course. Shoma kept his face stoic, stuffing his disappointment down so Yuzuru wouldn’t see it.

“It just feels like, I don’t know, like we’re losing ourselves, like we’re drifting apart, and I don’t want to. Maybe we shouldn't. Do it. For a while.” Yuzuru licked at his lower lip, nervously, hands dropping down away from Shoma’s face to rest at his sides. “Just for a little while. Until we’re. I don’t know. Until we’re okay again.” 

Shoma felt his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach to nestle alongside the nausea from his hangover. “Do what.”

“You know.”

Shoma stared blankly back at Yuzuru. “Fuck?”

Yuzuru pressed his lips into a tight line and broke eye contact, staring instead towards the flowers and the plastic bag he’d dropped to embrace Shoma. “Yeah. Let’s cool it, just for a little while.”

“I thought last night was good for you.” Shoma reached up to poke Yuzuru’s chin, trying to draw his gaze back. He tried to quell his own panic, slowly rising from the already stormy sea of his stomach, masking it with aloofness.

“Shoma, it was, it was really good, that’s not why…stop it.” Yuzuru reached his hand back to grab Shoma’s fingers to stop Shoma from tickling his chin, but it had worked, and he was meeting Shoma’s eyes again. “I just think. Maybe it would help us...get us...back. If we took it easy. Just for now.”

“Okay.” Shoma said, with every inch of his heart screaming no. How could he possibly say it, when Yuzuru still wouldn’t go there? What could he even say? _No, Yuzu. Please don’t. This is going to hurt so much worse. If you can’t love me, at least I can know that you want me, I can live with that._ No. There it was again, the familiar disgust at himself, seeping in. Pathetic. Begging for scraps. So he could pretend. Yuzuru smiled and Dai’s words from the night before suddenly shot through his mind. _Don’t sell yourself short, kid._

Shoma sighed and threw his arms up across his eyes. Dai.

“What about Dai?” Yuzuru said with a wary curiosity, reaching around Shoma’s crossed arms to poke his cheeks.

Shoma realized with a slow, dawning horror that he’d said Dai’s name outloud. “Uh. Nothing. Nothing about Dai.”

“When you came back last night you were crying…” Yuzuru said, pinching Shoma’s cheeks and tugging them out. “What happened?” 

Shoma groaned, uncrossing his arms to reach up and grab Yuzuru’s cheeks for revenge. “It’s not important. How do you know that, anyway?”

Yuzuru shrugged. “I was getting some ice.”

Shoma raised an eyebrow and tugged Yuzuru’s cheeks up to make him smile. “At that hour?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Uh huh.”

Shoma let his hands fall down to lightly clutch Yuzuru’s wrists. Yuzuru let go of his cheeks to poke them again.

“So...what happened?”

“I got really drunk.” Shoma studied every inch of Yuzuru’s face, scanning for every subtle reaction he knew like the back of his hand. “Really, really drunk.”

A slight twitch of the eyebrow. “And?”

Shoma snaked his tongue out to wet his lips, pulse quickening. “I maybe. Hit on him.”

A lip twitch, a flash of anger in his eyes, a concentrated effort to keep his face neutral. Now, a turn at the corner of his lips, upward, that seemed half-forced, as well as the giggle being pressed out with it. “Shoma - what? Oh my god.”

“I can never talk to him again. Or look at him. It’s over for me. You should probably bury me. Notify my family.” Shoma said plainly, letting go of Yuzuru’s wrists to fold his hands together on top of his chest again. “I lived a good life, I did my best.”

“I can’t believe you did that.” Yuzuru poked him again before letting one hand fall down, raising the other one to cover his mouth as he forced another laugh. “What happened?!”

“He rejected me.”

Yuzuru’s cheeks twitched in a way that Shoma knew underneath his hand he had smiled, maybe smirked. His voice was dripping with sympathy, but Shoma knew him well enough to know it was definitely false.

“Oh no, Sho. Here. Don't take it personally. You're not his type. You don't even study.”

Shoma blinked. “What?”

Yuzuru sighed, dropping his hand now to brush Shoma’s hair back one more time before gently shuffling backwards, letting his head slip back down to the floor. “Shoma, it's a long story. Maybe another time.”

“Does Dai even really have a type? How do you-” Shoma’s pressing was interrupted by Yuzuru dropping the konbini bag onto his chest.

“Here. I brought you some snacks. For your hangover.” Yuzuru shuffled over to the bed on his knees and then turned to sit with his back against it, picking the odd bouquet up as well and leaning over to balance it delicately across the bag. “And um. I made this. To say I’m sorry.”

Shoma picked up the bouquet and held it up, studying it curiously. They were clearly all flowers that had been given to Yuzuru by fans at the show. But he’d combined them, arranged them. Different colors, different types, organized so that the darker ones were clustered in the center. They’d been removed from their individual sleeves and placed in one big one, a ribbon tying the middle. It was silly, when Yuzuru could have easily afforded a bouquet from the konbini he'd gotten the snacks from, to sit and fuss over piecing together a weird apology bouquet for Shoma out of a stash of flowers gathered from his ice show gift box haul wasn't necessary. But it made a sharp, aching feeling take root in his chest, the fact that he had.

Shoma set it aside and peeked into the konbini bag. Noodles, jagariko, candy, onigiri, water, painkillers. The aching feeling spread, dancing out across his ribs, tightening around his heart. He wondered if Yuzuru knew his kindness was cruel. A reminder of what they weren't.

He rolled his head to the side to look at Yuzuru and offered a small smile. “Thanks. You didn't have to.” He blinked slowly, frowning, as his mind finally put two and two together through the fog of his hangover. “What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you be on a train by now?”

Yuzuru shrugged. “I told Keiji I'd make sure we got you to the next destination. It's not like I've never looked after you before, no one's gonna think it's weird. Plus everyone knows you're hungover.”

Shoma groaned and shoved himself up to a sitting position, grabbing the bag of snacks and shimmying backwards to sit next to Yuzuru. “Great. Umm. What now?”

“Now…we get you feeling human again, and then we go get the next train.”

Shoma pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on top. “And what now…you know…for us? How long?”

“Now we...fix it. However long that takes, I guess.”

Shoma hummed and picked at the bottom threads of his jeans. “Can you even take a train like a normal person?”

Yuzuru laughed and knocked his shoulder against Shoma's. “I have my methods. You’ll see. But first…” He reached across Shoma to pull one of the instant noodle bowls out from the bag. This close, Shoma could smell the faint scent of his shampoo, like honey and lavender, and pushed down the urge to cry out and grab Yuzuru's face, force him to look at him, force him to see, to see Shoma, to see why this was a bad idea. Instead he just nodded as Yuzuru hopped up to boil the kettle, leaning back against the bed with a tiny defeated sigh.

\---

Getting the train was sort of fun, in a painful way. They dressed to go incognito, Yuzuru bundling Shoma up in one of his bigger hoodies, sleeves completely engrossing Shoma's hands. Shoving a beanie over the fluff of Shoma's hair. Both opted for regular glasses and face masks and stood for a while in front of Yuzuru’s full length mirror, giggling and taking photos of their disguises. Shoma texted one to Keiji, who simply replied, _Be careful, idiots. Let me know when you get here._

Shoma's head was still sore, limbs aching, stomach a knotted mess, but it had eased, a little. All but the special kind of agony he found in resting his head comfortably on Yuzuru's shoulder as they slouched together on the train. The way it worsened when Yuzuru lay his cheek gently on top of Shoma's head. Miraculously, they managed to reach the next city undetected. Yuzuru held his hand from the train platform to the hotel.

It was a small blessing that this ice show seemed to be providing each skater with their own room for the entire tour. Probably wanted to make a good impression, to have the best chances at retaining the star-studded cast for the next summer. It meant Shoma could hide himself away properly between practices and shows, safely avoiding awkward conversations for at least a couple days.

Keiji wouldn't let that stand, though, and flopped across Shoma's bed the next day to drag the truth out of him. He laughed maybe a little too hard as Shoma recounted the horror of his actions at the karaoke bar, which earned him a firm kick in the side and a pillow to the face. When Shoma told him that Yuzuru wanted to abstain for a while, he just raised an eyebrow and said, “I give it three days, max.”

Dai also cornered him, quite literally, at their first  practice of the weekend, in the dining area, when the only other people around were Yuzuru and Javi. Shoma squeaked and tried to look anywhere else as Dai braced the wall on either side of him and loudly cleared this throat. Shoma could see the way Yuzuru's eyes widened from across the room. That was the only positive though, as he gulped and forced himself to make eye contact with Dai, feeling his face already getting hot.

“Yo, Shoma.”

Shoma squeaked again and shrugged weakly at Dai. Dai sighed but his smile was crooked and fond.

“We’re cool. So be cool with me, yeah?” He winked, as if that would help _anything_ , especially Shoma's reddening face, then lifted one arm to ruffle his hair.

“Yeah.” Shoma glanced quickly behind Dai - Yuzuru was still huffing but trying to hide it - then met his eyes again and offered a small, shy smile. “I uh. Thanks again. And. Sorry again. It’s. A compliment?”

Dai grinned. “Consider this old man flattered. Seriously though, I think you should focus on, you know, that thing you've got going on with that guy a little closer to your age, yeah?” His voice was low, hushed, and Shoma realized it was for his benefit, so Yuzuru couldn't overhear them. He found himself feeling appreciative and embarrassed simultaneously again, admiration for his first idol growing even more. Dai really was a good guy.

“Yeah. We're kinda cooling it right now,” Shoma said, chewing on his bottom lip. “Just for now.”

Dai snickered, “Yeah, been there, done that, godspeed and good luck. Maybe stay away from karaoke bars, eh?”

Shoma groaned and covered his now cherry red face with his hands. “Noted. Thanks. Please stop talking.”

Dai laughed and patted his shoulder reassuringly before turning on his heel and walking casually back out of the dining area. Shoma dropped his hands back to his sides and glanced slowly up at Yuzuru who was still trying not to look annoyed and failing. Maybe that was a good sign. Shoma turned back toward the buffet and gathered together a decent breakfast, hoping his face was even slightly less red by the time he was ready to saunter over as nonchalantly as possible to where Yuzuru was sitting with Javi and plop down across from them.

“I thought you said he rejected you.” Yuzuru said in Japanese with a forced, cool nonchalance before Shoma could even open his mouth to greet them.

Javi frowned, presumably at his tone and the expression on his face, unable to understand but knowing Yuzuru well enough to know what he’d said wasn’t nice. From the way Yuzuru flinched, Shoma was pretty sure Javi had just kicked him under the table, and Yuzuru had kicked back.

“He did.” Shoma said flatly, “Good morning to you, too, Yuzu. We were just talking.” He cast a small smile at Javi and mumbled a shy “Good morning” in English before starting to shovel his tamago gohan down.

Yuzuru shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.” His posture betrayed his statement, shoulders tense and jaw clenched in-between bites of his own breakfast. Javi was looking at Yuzuru with a particular sort of fond exasperation. He looked tired. Shoma filed it away to think about later, focusing intently on finishing his breakfast in the awkward silence that had grown between the three of them.

Yuzuru ended up warming back up to Shoma over the timespan of practice. They fell back into their regular way with ease. It was painful, still, for Shoma. Yuzuru seemed so unbothered, so normal, the same way as before. Like he could take it or leave it, the things they did, at night and in secret, like Shoma mattered exactly the same to him either way. Meanwhile, Shoma’s gut was twisting every time Yuzuru grabbed his shoulder or scrunched up his nose into a full, beaming smile at Shoma’s words. His chest was hurting, muscles twitching, every time Yuzuru placed a gentle hand on the small of his back, or brushed his wrist with his fingers.

Yuzuru didn’t appear at his door again until Sunday night. But this time, there was no booze on his breath, no primal glint in his eye, and the only thing he held up in his hand was his mobile phone. He was in his pajama pants, dotted with tiny Winnie-the-Poohs, and a plain black v-neck, hair still damp from the shower. Shoma stared at him for a minute before standing back to let him in, wondering what he wanted now.

“I thought maybe we could just...hang out.” Yuzuru said without prompting, wagging his phone back and forth in the air. “Play some games?”

“Sure.” Shoma looked him up and down, suspicious, but he wasn’t going to say no. As usual, he’d take what he could get. He felt pathetic and tingly at the same time, wondering if Yuzuru was going to cave in already. If this was some sort of weird, cozy ruse to climb back into bed. A quick pang of self-loathing, for how much he wanted it to be.

But Yuzuru didn’t head for the bed, opting instead for the small leather couch across from the television. He plopped down onto it energetically, throwing his long legs up to rest his feet on the glass coffee table and shuffling back against the cushions, squirming around to get settled. Shoma shuffled over to plop down beside him, folding his knees up to hug the end of the couch cushion with his toes, since he was too short to sit comfortably the way Yuzuru was.

This was familiar, too, though it hadn’t happened since Pyeongchang. Yuzuru used to whine at him any time he and Keiji left him out of a gaming session during a competition, until their own quiet routine had developed - at first, all three of them, but sometimes, when he had his own room, or they were sharing, just Yuzuru and Shoma. Sometimes, they both sat quietly, like they were now, gaming individually in a comfortable silence. Sometimes Shoma sat playing on his phone and humming along in all the right places while Yuzuru ranted non-stop and pored over footage from his skates and the protocols, making sure to look up and nod any time Yuzuru was frantically pointing and emphasizing something to him. It was always nice, though, no matter what they did, just to spend quiet, simple time together. It hurt now, a little, the realization that this had fallen by the wayside. But Shoma felt a silly little spark of hope, that Yuzuru was seeking it out now.

Everything was quiet except for the taps of their thumbs against their respective screens and the tiny sound effects from Yuzuru’s phone. He he would always pout if Shoma asked him to turn it off, bottom lip bitten and jutted out, eyes big as he could make them, a tiny whine behind his, “But Shooo.” How could Shoma say no to that? How could anyone? He decided to skip the battle tonight, to accept the tiny tinny sounds along with Yuzuru’s company, part and parcel. He was too tired to protest, really. And too afraid to upset the nostalgic and delicate calm settling between them. As painful as it was, he found he was really, really enjoying it.

But he _was_ tired, and that’s how he wound up curled into himself, his head resting on Yuzuru’s lap, soft puffs of breath making a warm patch on his upper thigh. It wasn’t that Yuzuru’s lap was comfortable - his thighs were muscular and sculpted, hard and solid, but Shoma was tired, and Shoma was starting to feel bizarrely touch-starved. It was an unusual feeling. Disconcerting. He didn’t like being touched, not really, not by most people. Yuzuru was an exception, like Keiji and Dai were exceptions, and he found himself craving something, anything, to reassure him that they were still going to be okay, that Yuzuru still wanted him, would still allow him this sort of closeness, the kind that blurred the lines between friendship and something more.

Yuzuru had let out a small, soft sound when Shoma had curled up and leaned over to rest his head in his lap, nuzzling his thigh with his cheek as he wiggled around to get as comfortable as possible. Shoma had felt Yuzuru stiffen a little, abdomen twitching against the back of his head, but he hadn’t protested. It wasn’t long before his breaths started to change, from quick and shallow to even and deep, his arms drooping off the end of the couch, phone still held tightly in a gamer’s grip. His eyes slipped closed and he hummed softly into Yuzuru’s leg, drawing forth another involuntary twitch of the tightly packed muscles there. He had just started to drift past a doze into a proper sleep when he felt the hard jab of Yuzuru’s finger poking into his cheek.

“Shooo.”

Shoma grunted but didn’t move, pressing his cheek more firmly into Yuzuru’s lap.

“Shomaaaa...come on…”

Yuzuru’s fingers pinched at his cheek now, tugging at it. Shoma whined and rolled over to press his face against Yuzuru’s leg, muffling his voice as he mumbled back, “Sleep.”

Yuzuru planted his fingers firmly in Shoma’s hair, tickling at his scalp. “That’s fine, dummy, but let’s get you in bed at least.”

Shoma groaned in protest but rolled over onto his back to peer up at Yuzuru through half-open, sleep-heavy eyes. His heart skipped a beat at the soft expression on Yuzuru’s face. He was smiling, the corners of his lips barely turned up, but turned up just enough, it was small, and caring. Gentle. Like the look in his eyes. There was even a hint of something like pride. It made his throat feel suddenly thick, choked.

“Okay.” Shoma muttered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, so he could wipe a bit of sleep away, so he could look at nothing instead of a fond smile that made his heart ache feel fresh.

“Come on,” Yuzuru prodded gently, lifting his hips to nudge Shoma into sitting upright.

Shoma grumbled but forced himself to sit up and swing his legs back over the front of the couch, getting slowly to his feet and shuffling towards the bed. He didn’t expect Yuzuru’s hands to clamp firmly down on his shoulders and jumped a little, startled. Yuzuru guided him firmly to the edge of the bed, then stopped, giving him a tiny shove with a soft “Te-ren.”. Shoma collapsed onto the mattress with a laugh and crawled his way up to the top to start climbing under the covers.

“Thanks, Yuzu. This was nice.” He mumbled as he burrowed under. Yuzuru hummed and didn’t reply.

Shoma had already started to doze off again when he felt the quilt lifting and his eyes shot back open, body tensing. He’d been fully expecting, despite the pajamas, that Yuzuru would be leaving. He definitely wasn’t expecting Yuzuru’s chest against his back, Yuzuru’s arm sliding over and around his waist, Yuzuru’s breath in his ear, tentative and soft, “Is this okay?”

Shoma shivered and pressed his body back against Yuzuru’s, hand drifting down to hold his in place over his stomach. His drowsiness disappeared in a flash, heart hammering now in his chest. His lips suddenly felt dry, cracked, so he wet them and managed to whisper, raspy and strained, “This is hard.”

“I’ve got something hard- ow! Okay, okay, sorry.” Yuzuru’s attempt at a boner joke got him a swift dig in the side from Shoma’s elbow.

“I’m being serious, Yuzu.” Shoma grumbled, pinching the back of Yuzuru’s hand.

Yuzuru’s snuggled in closer, his breath tickling the top of Shoma’s head. “It’s not forever.” His voice was soft, barely a whisper, and vulnerable, in a way that made Shoma nervous. He rolled over the face Yuzuru, propping his head up under his own folded arms as Yuzuru moved his hand to settle in the small of Shoma’s back. “I just need a little more time. We...need a little more time.”

“Time for what?” Shoma asked bluntly. Yuzuru flinched, but Shoma’s gaze didn’t waver. This was the closest Yuzuru had come to actually talking about what was going on between them yet. It felt stupid, now, to hope this would be the moment, after all the times it could have been and never was, but here he was, hoping.

“Just...time. I’m just. Working some stuff out.” Yuzuru’s fingers twitched, hesitant, against Shoma’s back, before starting to move, drawing small circles, touch so light it nearly tickled. 

“About what?” Shoma pressed again. It felt a little dangerous, to keep pushing, but he was _so_ close, if he’d open up just a little bit more...but Yuzuru didn’t answer, just stared back at Shoma, chewing on his lower lip, and when he finally spoke again he sounded tense, an edge of frustration in his voice.  
  
“About...everything. I don’t know, Shoma.” Yuzuru stopped moving his hand, pressing it flat again against Shoma’s back. His eyebrows knitted together, mouth still slightly open. He was mulling something over and Shoma felt his own weariness, physical and mental, returning, eyelids growing heavy. Eventually, Yuzuru spoke again. His voice was even softer than before. He was smiling, but it was half-hearted. His eyes looked sad. “It’s not forever.”

“Nothing is.” Shoma whispered back. The last thing he wondered before sleep finally took him was why Yuzuru looked so much like he was trying not to cry.

\---

On Friday, Shoma pulled a muscle in his upper back.

It wasn’t a big deal, just a twinge. But it was annoying, and he couldn’t reach it. That was annoying, too, because by all accounts he should have been flexible enough, but it was in annoying spot, just under his right shoulder blade, just out of reach to really get in there. He sat on the bench in the locker room, frustrated, staring down at the tube of Icy Hot in one hand and his t-shirt in the other, questioning his own flexibility routine, when he heard the door open behind him.

“Shoma?”

Yuzuru. Shoma had an idea. A bold idea. He turned his head to smile at Yuzuru, placing his shirt next to him on the bench and extending the hand holding the Icy Hot.

“Hey, Yuzu...can you help me? I can’t reach.”

Yuzuru stopped in his tracks and stared for second. It felt to Shoma like the air left the room and time stopped before he blinked, shrugged and nodded. “Sure. Where do you need it?”

Shoma reached his left hand around to tap at the space just under his shoulder blade. “There. I can reach but I can’t...you know. I can’t get in there, enough, with this.”

Yuzuru made a small sound of acknowledgement as he took the tube from Shoma’s outstretched hand and uncapped it. Shoma smiled at him as innocently as he could manage before turning back around, feeling his heart start beating a little faster, pulse quickening, not wanting Yuzuru to notice the pink flush starting to creep up his jaw. Perfect.

When he felt the shock of the cold gel against his skin, the hard press of Yuzuru’s fingertips, he gasped, an involuntary shiver running through his body. Yuzuru’s fingers paused.

“Sorry,” Shoma whispered, purposefully sounding as breathless as he could manage without making it too obvious what he was trying, “Cold.”

“You’re okay.” Yuzuru mumbled, but Shoma noted the tiny tremor, in his voice and in his fingertips.

Yuzuru pressed down hard into the muscle, fingers hooking slightly as he rubbed the gel in, kneading at the small knot there. He was slow, purposeful. Shoma let his eyelids flutter shut and sighed happily.

“More?” Shoma breathed, “Just a little. Please.”

Yuzuru drew his hand back slowly and didn’t speak, but Shoma could hear the sounds indicating he was applying more Icy Hot to his fingers. He smiled to himself and shifted a little on the bench, grabbing the edge of it on either side of his legs and curling his fingers around it. He waited until Yuzuru was pressing nice and hard again where the knot had formed before he let out a tiny moan.

Yuzuru’s breath hitched, fingers hesitating slightly before pressing down again, harder.

“Yeah...right there.” Shoma gasped out, glad Yuzuru couldn’t see his face, very aware of exactly what he was doing, “Keep going.”

Yuzuru made a choking sound and tried to cover it up by clearing his throat, but he didn’t stop. There was no way he wasn’t thinking about it now, all the other times he’d heard Shoma say things just like that. Shoma smiled to himself, wondering what Yuzuru’s face looked like right now. If his pupils were dilated yet, the light pink blush dusted across his cheeks, if he was biting at his lip. He knew he was pushing it now, and his muscle _did_ feel much better, so he decided it was time to toe the line, to view the results of his efforts.

“Mmm...that’s good. Thank you, Yuzu.” He said softly, waiting for Yuzuru to withdraw his hand before he lifted his t-shirt and shrugged it back on, subtly flexing as much as he could in the process, knowing Yuzuru’s eyes would still be firmly trained on the muscles in his back. He glanced shyly back over his shoulder and up at Yuzuru, knowing Yuzuru would see the flush of red in his jaw and the want in his eyes.

Yuzuru, for his part, looked exactly the way Shoma had anticipated. There was a very concentrated look on his face, as if he were fighting the urge to shove Shoma up against the lockers right here and now, blush high on his cheeks, breaths coming quickly, almost assuredly matching a heightened pulse. 

“No problem.” Yuzuru said, calmly, but Shoma took note of the way his fingers were still trembling as they brushed against Shoma’s when he handed back the tube of Icy Hot.

\---

On Saturday, Yuzuru needed help reaching the zipper on his costume.

He waved Shoma over to him with a pitiful, searching look on his face, whining about how he could totally reach his zipper but that it was just definitely stuck on something and just too awkward and could Shoma please help him with some of his strength, but careful, don’t rip it and -

And that’s how Yuzuru wound up with his palms pressed flat against the face of the lockers, braced, biting his lip and looking back over his shoulder at Shoma with pleading eyes and Shoma knew immediately that this was definitely Yuzuru’s revenge.

Shoma wasn’t going to let him have it that easily.

The zipper, of course, wasn’t stuck. It came down easily, on the first tug. But Shoma had foreseen that, and Shoma had a plan. He placed one fingertip, gently, feather-light, over the top of the zipper, and started to trail it down, slowly, carefully, along the ridges of Yuzuru’s spine as he worked the zipper open. From the tiny gasp and barely smothered moan that escaped Yuzuru’s lips, Shoma could tell Yuzuru hadn’t been expecting that. His lips twitched into a confident smirk.

Halfway down, torturously slow, and Shoma had another idea.

“Hold on,” He lied, “I think it’s stuck here too.”

“Really?” Yuzuru tried to crane his neck around to look, but Shoma smiled and reached up to his cheek, to point his face back at the lockers.

“Hold still, Yuzu, I don’t wanna tear it.” Shoma feigned annoyance and dropped the hand he’d placed on Yuzuru’s cheek down to his hip, gripping him there firmly and guiding him gently forward, until the front of his body was pressed firmly against the lockers. Shoma stepped closer, pressing his lower body tight against Yuzuru’s, savoring the way it made Yuzuru hiss between his teeth. He trailed his hand up slowly to dance over Yuzuru’s back, settling it against where he’d paused with the other, as if he needed to hold the fabric in place to avoid damaging it. He was enjoying every single second of the way Yuzuru’s plan had backfired. But there was a limit, regrettably, to how long he could drag this out. So he finished, gently, slowly, pulling the zipper the rest of the way down Yuzuru’s back, still trailing his fingertip along behind it, pausing when he reached the bottom, just below the dip of Yuzuru’s back and above the swell of his ass, letting his touch linger for just a moment too long to be friendly.

Yuzuru let out an audible gasp as Shoma stepped back, and turned around with his arms crossing up to hold his costume front to his chest, visibly flustered. Shoma smiled, again, as innocently as he could, as if he hadn’t just purposefully drawn each little noise of frustration and pleasure out of Yuzuru with precise calculation. Yuzuru shook himself and gave him a tight smile back with a hurried “thank you,” before he was scuttling back to where he’d left his costume bag draped across a bench.

\---

On Sunday, Shoma fell during practice.

That, in and of itself, wasn’t unusual. He slipped comfortably into his traditional starfish pose and laid there for a moment, not feeling the need to get up again immediately.

What _was_ unusual was Yuzuru skating over to help him up, because Yuzuru knew as well as anyone that Shoma was just fine and didn’t need any help. What was even more unusual was Yuzuru stumbling as he reached down to help Shoma up. They both yelped as Yuzuru tumbled forward onto Shoma, both scrambling to avoid kicking each other with the blades on their skates, Yuzuru trying to catch himself and failing, Shoma twisting on the ice to try and save either of them from whacking their skulls against it or each other. They wound up in a ridiculous tangle, arms and legs askew, giggling.

The giggles stopped when Yuzuru braced his hands on either side of Shoma’s head to start pushing himself up, the motion causing his hips to press into Shoma’s and both of them to pause, eyes locked and chests heaving.

“Are you okay?” Yuzuru said after a beat, tremor back in his voice.

“Mmm. Fine.” Shoma replied with a small smile, reaching up to flick Yuzuru’s nose. “But I’m gonna be soaked if you don’t get up, like, right now.”

“Right, sorry.” Yuzuru mumbled and quickly pushed himself back onto his knees.

They didn’t have much time to laugh about it, Mura and Keiji already on their way over to investigate and make sure they were alright, arriving with a slew of “are you okay”s and “what the hell”s just as they both stood and started to brush the snow off of themselves. Keiji shot Shoma a questioning look, eyebrows raised, when Mura wasn’t looking and Shoma just grinned back and shrugged. Keiji had already lost the bet anyway, it had been a whole two weeks now since Yuzuru had suggested they cool it down. If the last three days had been any sort of indication, though, Shoma was fairly confident that would be changing, and soon. 

But his mood darkened slightly, as he wondered if anything would be different this time. If it would really change at all. Or if they’d be back where they’d started, hovering the strange space between, Yuzuru refusing to talk and Shoma allowing it, just so he could have him, a piece of him, all to himself, a side of Yuzuru no one else knew, no matter how much it hurt. He had a sinking feeling he already knew the answer.

\---

As expected, almost like clockwork, there was a knock on Shoma’s door that night.

As expected, Shoma stepped aside to let him in. Yuzuru looked uncharacteristically nervous again, and Shoma eyed the shopping bag he was holding suspiciously.

“I thought we could hang out, maybe watch a movie or something. Just chill.” Yuzuru said unconvincingly as he shuffled over to the tiny kitchen area.

“Yeah, sure.” Shoma’s eyes followed him across the room as he made his own way towards the couch, picking up the remote and turning on the television, starting to flip through the available movie titles. “Have anything in mind?”

A tiny knot formed in his stomach as he watched Yuzuru pull out a small bottle of a brown liquor from the bag, and a bottle of Coke, placing them both down on the counter before searching for a glass. Ah.

“Umm.” A flaw in Yuzuru’s plan he obviously hadn’t thought through. “I don’t really mind. Anything is good. You pick, Sho. Do you, ummm.” He looked back over his shoulder, nervousness still apparent as he worried his lip. Shoma thought he looked...apologetic, almost. “Do you want a drink?”

Shoma shook his head and turned away to try and focus on the task at hand, already feeling the tension starting to coil in his belly. Hating himself a little for it. “I’m okay.”

He sat down on the couch and tried not to shiver when he heard the sound of ice clinking into glass.


	4. Spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stars.” Shoma said simply, folding his hands over his chest.
> 
> “What?” Yuzuru blinked.
> 
> “Stars. Your eyes. They’re like stars. Full of stars.”
> 
> Yuzuru blinked again, a dusting of pink across his cheeks still visible in the half-light.
> 
> Shoma reached one hand up to trace Yuzuru’s lips with the tips of his fingers, back and forth, slowly, gingerly.
> 
> “Sugar stars.”
> 
> “What?” Yuzuru mumbled against his fingertips.
> 
> “Your lips. Taste like sugar stars. Kissing you.” Shoma licked his lips, which were suddenly feeling very dry. “I love…”
> 
> Yuzuru’s breath hitched in his throat, his lips trembled under Shoma’s fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've unlocked this temporarily because I'm constantly bummed out about my stats, but I will be re-locking it in a couple of days, so consider this a reminder to sign up for an AO3 account if you'd like to read my fic. :) 
> 
> Sorry this took a month longer than planned! It spiraled into 10k again. Eternal thank yous to the people of KSSC, and to my patient and excellent betas on this chapter, [SecretPeach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretPeach/pseuds/SecretPeach), [shomaun_ho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shomaun_ho/pseuds/shomaun_ho) and [kasuchans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasuchans/pseuds/kasuchans), whose many ideas and suggestions I have used liberally to make this come together. Thank you thank you thank you. <3 
> 
> The ending of this chapter is deceptively soft. The calm before the storm. Chapter 5 will finally, finally get into Yuzu's head and motivations, and feature a lot of Good Guy Javi, before the inevitable and aforementioned storm, so I hope you can look forward to it! Will try to be a bit faster.

_How did we get here again?_  

Yuzuru’s fingers dug hard into his shoulders. The only light left in the room now was coming from the long-neglected television, bathing Yuzuru in a blue-white glow. He was almost luminescent, sweat covering his pale skin in a glistening sheen, spine arched and mouth open in a tiny “o”, obscene noises spilling out of it as he raised and lowered himself onto Shoma's cock. Shoma trailed his hands up and down Yuzuru's sides, gently stroking, encouraging, as he rode him. _How did we get here again?_  

Yuzuru had downed his first drink while he stood in the kitchen, and made another one before he joined Shoma on the couch. He’d pulled that stupid move with a big pretend yawn to sling his arm around Shoma’s shoulder once he’d finished it, Shoma had laughed and rolled his eyes and called him lame. But Yuzuru had pulled him in, pressed him hard against the couch, made him gasp and licked forcefully into his mouth and now… 

...now Yuzuru was slowing down, pressing his forehead against Shoma’s, and whispering, voice rough and low, “Staying away from you is driving me crazy. I can’t do it.” 

Shoma craned his neck up and chased his lips before replying. Yuzuru let him catch them and whimpered into his mouth. He gathered his courage with each press of Yuzuru’s lips against his own. 

“So be with me.” 

Yuzuru pulled back, slowing to a full stop. There was a strange look in his eyes, like Shoma was something weak and pitiable. Like he’d said something stupid. But Shoma didn’t budge, didn’t back down. He stared back at Yuzuru expectantly. He wanted this back, but this was his chance, now, to make it more, to make it different, he had to take it.  
  
“I can’t.” Yuzuru finally whispered, same as always. 

Shoma didn’t answer, not with words. He could feel the tension in his jaw as he clenched it, knew he was probably failing to hide the anger in his eyes, but right now that didn’t matter. He grabbed Yuzuru’s hips firmly, holding him still, and fucked up into him, hard.   

Yuzuru’s gasp was sharp and startled, but pleased, turning into a moan as Shoma kept up a punishing tempo. He tightened his grip on Shoma’s shoulders, digging his nails in, making Shoma hiss. They weren’t far off now, either of them, Shoma could tell from the way Yuzuru’s eyes rolled back and he struggled to get out even a whiny “Sho” in-between his own cries, punctuated by Shoma’s unrelenting thrusts. From the way his own body was tensing, pressure growing and control slipping, mind growing hazy. He felt Yuzuru clenching around him as he threw his head back and keened, beads of sweat rolling down his elongated neck, Shoma letting out a grunt of his own at the feel. He clutched Yuzuru’s hips more tightly as he felt his body shaking, heard his tiny sob of relief. Shoma didn’t let up, chasing his own release, Yuzuru’s small, overstimulated whimpers spurring him on until he finally tipped over the edge and his vision briefly went white. 

Yuzuru let out a satisfied moan and collapsed against him, sliding his arms from Shoma’s shoulders to drape over his back. His body was slick and sticky with sweat, chest heaving, panting for every shaky breath coming out of him. Shoma slipped his hands down to the small of Yuzuru’s back and rubbed gently, until his breathing was slower, calmer. Nice and regular again, out of the danger zone. He wanted to tuck his chin over Yuzuru’s shoulder, but he couldn’t reach from their positions, so he settled for pressing his face into Yuzuru’s chest, tilting his head up to mouth wetly at his collarbone. Yuzuru quivered and let out a tiny sigh and Shoma turned his head to the side to listen to the thrum of his heartbeat until it, too, had steadied. 

Yuzuru kissed the top of his head and raised himself up gently, standing tentatively on still trembling legs. Shoma watched silently as he gathered up his clothes, shuffled into the bathroom. Shoma waited until he heard the hotel shower turning on before he looked for something to clean himself up, shrugged his own clothes back on. He was sitting on the couch when Yuzuru emerged again, elbows resting on his knees and hands folded together, worrying his lips. He looked up through his fringe as Yuzuru emerged from the shower, still toweling at his hair, slowing to a stop in front of Shoma. He was smiling but it quickly turned down, brow wrinkling in concern, when he caught the look on Shoma’s face. He opened his mouth to speak but Shoma cut him off. 

“Why not?” Shoma asked him bluntly, starting back right where they’d left off, “Why can’t you be with me?”  
  
Yuzuru grimaced and shook his head, looking away from Shoma and focusing very hard on folding the towel in his hands. “I don’t wanna talk about it, Shoma. Not right now.”  
  
“Then when.” Shoma’s voice was short, clipped. He stared unflinchingly at Yuzuru, silently noting the tightness in Yuzuru’s body, the way he pressed his lips together into a tight line. The scene on the television had shifted now, casting Yuzuru with a shadow of harsh reds, oranges. Illuminating the tension in his face. The way he seemed coiled, twitchy and ready to spring, or to run. Fight or flight.  
  
Yuzuru finally placed the folded towel onto the glass coffee table, using his full attention to fidget with it until the edges were lined up perfectly with the edges of the table. He glanced back up at Shoma, eyes guilty, and shrugged. 

“Then go.” Shoma snapped, narrowing his eyes. 

Yuzuru flinched. “Sho…”  
  
“Don’t.” Shoma warned, cutting him off again.  
  
“Sho, please…don’t be like this.” Yuzuru took a step forward but Shoma just stared back at him and shook his head slowly, so Yuzuru stopped.  
  
“Like what? I don’t even know what I am to you, Yuzu.” Shoma fought hard to keep his voice even and cool. He squeezed his hands tighter together to hide the way they had started shaking.

“I don’t know either.” Yuzuru’s voice was barely above a whisper, trembling. He was blinking rapidly now, eyes starting to look wet.    
  
“Then figure it out.” Shoma said coldly. He was managing, somehow, to hold his ground. Yuzuru looked cowed and broken. Shoma fought the urge to reach out, to take it back, to do _anything_ to stop seeing him look so...so hurt, so vulnerable. His fingers dug in so hard to the backs of his hands to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing Yuzuru by the wrist when he turned away and went for the door that he was sure they’d leave welts.  

As the door closed behind him, Shoma sank down into the couch and sighed, pressing his fists into his eyes. Tears were bubbling up now, and he didn’t want them. He didn’t want to feel anything, anymore. A few spilled over anyway. His head was a mess, body still coming down from the high of orgasm, mind swimming with images of Yuzuru. A confusing blur. Yuzuru’s face flushed and twisted in pleasure, a sharp contrast to his face falling, crumpling. Every word he’d said was still ringing in his ears. 

Shoma needed a distraction, fast. He pulled his phone out from his pocket, firing a text off to Keiji.

 _ >>It happened again._ 

It was late, but Keiji was still up and didn’t take long to respond, much to Shoma’s relief.  
_  
_ _ >>Did you talk? _

 Shoma frowned and chewed on his lip a moment before replying.

 _ >>I tried. I really tried. Really._ 

 _ >>We’re gonna try something new. Friday night._ 

Shoma blinked and stared at the message in confusion. Something new?

_ >>?_

_ >>You’ll see. _

 ---

Friday was awkward. 

He hadn’t seen or heard from Yuzuru since he’d left on Sunday night. Now, Yuzuru was definitely avoiding him, and didn’t seem to care who noticed. Yuzuru was across the rink with Javi when Shoma stepped onto the ice, but he quickly turned his back when Shoma tried to meet his eye. Javi gave him a sympathetic glance and a shrug. Shoma shrugged back and focused on his warm-up laps, trying to ignore the way his stomach clenched in anger. 

Yuzuru didn’t stay long after Shoma appeared, The way he hurried off the ice made both Johnny and Stephane raise a matching eyebrow and glance curiously over at Shoma. Shoma groaned and leaned back against the barrier as Keiji skated over to a stop beside him. 

“Do they know too? Does everybody actually know?” Shoma muttered, kicking at the ice with his toepick. 

“Well, neither of you are very good at being subtle, but no. I don’t think so. They probably suspect something, though, because again…” Keiji grinned, knocking Shoma’s elbow with his own, “You’re both really bad at this. In general.” 

Shoma frowned, brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean? We just act like we always do. What’s weird about that?” 

“Shoma…” Keiji sighed and slung a friendly arm around his shoulders. “You look at Yuzu like he hung the stars. You always have.” Shoma blinked and stared at Keiji like he had two heads. Keiji laughed and ruffled Shoma’s hair with his free hand. “I didn’t think he’d start having public temper tantrums, though, that’s a little obvious, even for you two.”

Shoma groaned again and pushed his hands into his face, squishing his own cheeks. “Great. Awesome.”

Keiji laughed again and shook him, once, gently, “Don’t worry so much about it. It’s just talk. You know what people are like. Don’t you kinda want everyone to know anyway?”  
  
Shoma snorted. “There’s nothing to know, that’s the problem. I want…” He stopped and looked down at his hands, chewing on his lip again. “I want there to be something. Something more.”

“Well, try and forget about all of that tonight, yeah? We’re gonna go for an extreme option. Option B.” Keiji said with a reassuring rub to Shoma’s shoulder before pulling his arm back.

“Extreme? Option B?” Shoma turned to face Keiji, tilting his head.

“You remember your really brilliant idea the other week, when you tried to get in Dai’s p-”

“Shut up!” Shoma hissed, punching Keiji hard in the arm, eyes darting around nervously. “Somebody could hear you.”

Keiji just laughed and shoved Shoma back lightly. “Point being, we’re gonna try that, but different. To help you. Like, try something new. Someone new. Get your mind of Yuzu for once. See how you feel then. Maybe it’ll help.”

Shoma stared blankly at Keiji, “That sounds like it’s going to require going out and socializing. Which sounds terrible. Sounds like a horrible time. Are you sure you’ve even met me? What if I don’t _want_ someon-”

“Would you quit whining before even giving it a shot? Just change into something at least semi-decent after today’s show and we’re gonna try to get you to stop thinking about Yuzu and your weird ass deal with each other for like, two seconds, at least.”

Shoma shot him a withering look but nodded. “Fine. Whatever. Since when did you go out anyway?”

Keiji just grinned. “You don’t know everything about me and my mysterious, exciting, university life, Shoma. Maybe you would if you ever looked up from your moba games.” He flicked Shoma’s forehead before starting to skate backwards, motioning with his head for Shoma to follow. “Maybe I learned a thing or two from training with Dai.”

Shoma continued to glare but started skating after him. “Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Fine. We’ll do your stupid plan, and it’ll probably just remind me why not going outside is awesome.”

Keiji spun around to skate forwards next to him, clapping his hand on Shoma’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’ll be fun. At the very least, it’d be cool to see you smile again.”

\---

The show was just as awkward as the practice. Yuzuru was still giving him the cold shoulder, face fixed and blank any time he had to pass Shoma in the hall or on the ice, eyes focused squarely ahead and past him. Every time, Shoma felt himself getting angrier, and Keiji’s stupid idea sounding better and better. What right did Yuzuru have to even be pissed off in the first place? _He_ wasn’t the one being used, the one laying awake at night, staring at hotel ceilings at questioning everything. He wasn’t the one falling apart every time after he gave in, beating himself up and wallowing in his own shame, his regret, his stark awareness at the futility of it all, a pointless exercise in attempting to gain anything from something unrequited.

By the time the finale was over, Shoma was fuming. Part of him was so angry he wanted to _hurt_ Yuzuru. Wanted to lean against the lockers where Keiji was getting his stuff together, coyly as he could manage, and talk just loudly enough for Yuzuru to hear about their plans tonight. Make it clear he was going out, going looking. See if that made any change to Yuzuru’s stony expression. But almost like Keiji could read his mind, he looked at Shoma suspiciously when he leaned against the lockers and gave him a quick, firm shake of his head, so Shoma bit his lip and stayed quiet, letting the moment pass.

Getting ready took forever, and Shoma just felt increasingly anxious, nauseous even, about the whole thing. He wasted most of the time pacing. Thinking. Fussing with his hair, hating it, fussing with it again. He had gotten as far as ripped black jeans and a plain black v-neck when Keiji arrived at the door.. So he cursed, ran his fingers through his hair one more time and grabbed the nearest long sleeve button-up from the few clothes he’d packed and now strewn all over the room - a slightly shimmery silver one - to throw over his t-shirt. Keiji gave him a once over and a thumbs up with a “good enough” and they were on their way.

Shoma tried to focus on all the instructions Keiji was giving him on the way there, to keep his mind from drifting to Yuzuru, to panicking about this whole stupid plan, to the tears in Yuzuru’s eyes when he’d left. Even Keiji’s pep talk and descriptions of what to expect couldn’t really have prepared him, though. Now, leaning back against the bar in the crowded nightclub, idly swirling a drink around in his hand, he really, really wanted to be anywhere else. It was dark, except for the multicolored mood lighting and the flashing lights over on the dance floor. And it was hot, packed full of people, sweaty people, dancing, flailing drunk people, too many people. The dance floor got hit every now and then with bursts of smoke machines, a semi-permanent fog seeping around the edges of it, and Shoma felt like his lungs were itching from here. The EDM was loud and pounding, deep bass drops vibrating through his bones, tickling his skull.

He glowered at Keiji as he knocked the rest of his first drink back. “Remind me why I agreed to this.”

“Desperate times, desperate measures? Speaking of measures, I’m gonna get us some shots.” Keiji grinned and turned to face the bar, holding up his hand to flag down the barman.

Shoma’s eyes widened but he didn’t complain. Maybe it would help. Help everything suck less.

“You’re gonna go out there, you’re gonna at least _meet_ a hot stranger, and you’re gonna try to remember that men who aren’t Yuzuru exist, and with a generous amount of luck for your awkward ass, maybe you’ll even get lucky and take one home.”

Shoma groaned, letting his head fall back dramatically, looking pleadingly up at Keiji. “Can’t I just take you home so this can be over already?”

Keiji frowned and wrinkled his nose. “Gross, Shoma.”

“You’re right,” Shoma sighed and looked back at the dance floor, eyeing the crowd nervously. “Fuck.”

“Hey, come on, try and relax. Here.” Keiji nudged him and motioned to the bar with his head.

Shoma turned around to face the bar and his eyes widened. There were three shots lined up in front of him, in three different colors. There were a matching three shots in front of Keiji. Shoma gulped.

“Um. Just one more question. Before we. Before we do that.” Shoma said nervously, mind flashing back to his hand on Dai’s thigh, to the up close and personal view of his hotel toilet bowl, to Yuzuru hiding his smirk behind his hand. He prayed silently to himself that he wouldn’t decide trying to make out with Keiji _wasn’t_ a gross idea after the innocent looking little row of brightly colored shots had hit the back of this throat. “How umm. How are guys gonna know? That I like them.” He looked owlishly up at Keiji, more than a little bit embarrassed to be asking him something like this.

But, of course, Keiji’s expression was warm, gentle. Keiji had always looked after him, there really wasn’t any reason to feel embarrassed. “You’re better at flirting than you realize, Shoma. Just be yourself. You’ll do just fine.” He patted Shoma’s shoulder and then motioned to the rows of shots in front of them. “Shall we?”

Keiji raised the first shot glass and Shoma followed suit. They knocked them together silently, but not carefully enough to avoid the red liquid spilling over the edges, making Shoma's fingers instantly sticky. The liquor hitting the back of his throat was hot and sweet, cinnamon and fire, making him cough. He stared at an unflinching Keiji with wide, awe-struck eyes and followed suit as he immediately reached for the second shot. It was blue, and it was sweet, and much smoother. The third one was yellow, tangy, sweet with a kick, but not enough to make him cough again. Shoma didn’t have much time to worry about when exactly the shots would hit before Keiji had grabbed him by the hand and started pulling him towards the swaying mass of bodies on the dance floor.

Shoma instinctively tried to dig his heels into the floor, but Keiji was stronger, bigger, than Shoma, so it did nothing other than make him stumble. A wave of nausea rolled over his stomach - not from the alcohol, but from the beat getting increasingly louder as they neared the dance floor, vibrating through his skin, his bones. From the sweaty, strange bodies pressing against his own as Keiji shoved a path through the crowd, in search of their own space. His own heartbeat pounded faster and faster in his chest, in his ears, nearly making an even match for the DJ. He could feel the panic setting in, the urge to scramble for air, overwhelmed and drowning, when they finally pushed through the crowd into a freer space, a small pocket in the middle, room to breathe, room to be. Shoma let out his breath in a giant whoosh and only then registered he’d been holding it in the first place.

Keiji remained completely unbothered, he was so natural that Shoma was still reeling from the shock of it. He dropped Shoma’s hand and swayed immediately into the beat of the song, grinning, looking at Shoma encouragingly. Shoma just stood still and stared at him, wondering if Dai really had taken Keiji out sometimes to this sort of thing, under his wing, trying to quell his burning jealousy at the very notion.

“Shoma, come on!” Keiji shouted, jumping up and down but somehow still making it look _good_ along with the beat.

“What do I do?!” Shoma yelled back, well aware of the exasperation showing clearly in his voice.

“Relax, Shoma! Let go!” Keiji grabbed Shoma’s arms and started to flop them up and down, one after the other, alternating to the beat.

Shoma couldn’t help but laugh then, anxiety easing and another kick of gratitude for Keiji spreading through his chest, making it warm. The liquor was starting to warm him, too, his limbs feeling just a little looser, freer, a pleasant buzz creeping up his neck and around the back of his skull. Keiji dropped his arms and bounced back to give him room, throwing him another encouraging smile. Shoma smiled back and closed his eyes, letting go just a little, spinning in place as if he were on the ice before moving into the beat, letting it carry him. If musicality was one of his strengths on the ice, maybe it could serve him here, too.

Shoma opened his eyes again, still following Keiji’s lead a little, bouncing when he did, but swinging and swaying freely on his own in between the moments when the beat picked up. The music was pulsing through him now instead of against him, carrying his body instead of overwhelming it. He hated to admit it, but he was actually enjoying himself.

He didn’t stop when he felt eyes on him. He peeked through his own fringe, scanning the crowd as subtly as he could manage. There. It was a man. A foreigner. He had stilled in the crowd, staring purposefully, trying to catch Shoma’s eye. Shoma cast him a quick glance and a shy smile and kept dancing, spinning. When he looked up again, the man was coming closer, smiling with one side of his mouth, confident. Shoma studied him as he approached. He was handsome. Shoma’s first thought was he looked a little bit like Javi. Short, dark but well-kept hair, and warm, brown eyes. Smooth, olive skin and a gentle face, but a gentle face with a strong jaw and nicely shaped cheekbones. Definitely handsome.

He glanced quickly, slightly panicked, for Keiji, but Keiji was busy now, dancing with a girl and not paying Shoma much mind. He forced himself to breathe, to keep dancing. This was fine. This is what they’d talked about. Find someone and see. Get in touch later, if they got separated. He willed himself to stay calm, for his heartbeat to stay even. The man was in front of him now, and Shoma looked up at him and swallowed the lump trying to grow in his throat.

“Hi.” The man grinned, but it wasn’t scary. Not in a bad way.

Shoma slowed to a stop, tilted his head. “Hi.”

“English?”

Shoma felt himself starting to blush as he shook his head. “N-no. Little bit. Not good.”

The man laughed and said something else, too fast for Shoma, and it was so loud he wasn’t sure he’d have fared any better even if he could understand more English. He caught bits, pieces. _Okay. Don’t need. Dance._ Shoma smiled up at him through fluttering lashes. He felt bashful, nervous, but a strange sort of excitement, anticipation, welling up and quickening his pulse. Okay. This was really happening. Okay. It’s okay.

He started to swing his hips and Shoma followed suit, matching his pace. He tried to focus on the beat, on the movements on the stranger’s body in front of him. Tried to banish Yuzuru from his mind. Focus. The man was reaching out, gently touching his sides now, and his touch sent a brief jolt of panic through Shoma’s body, one he crushed into expressing with a nervous laugh. This was fine, this was good. Maybe Keiji was right and this was the best thing. Break the spell. Move on. Move on…how can you move on when nothing is over? Shoma shook his head quickly, placed his hands firmly on the stranger’s chest. Not now. Don’t think about it.

His chest was hard, firm. But it wasn’t grounding him. It was different. He was different. Shoma let his fingers trail down his sides, and couldn’t shake his unease at the way his chest didn’t taper into an impossibly small waist, into familiarity. The man took his hands and smiled, helped him turn around and dropped his hands again down to Shoma’s hips, pulling him tight back against him and starting to grind to the beat. Shoma gasped but didn’t stumble, one hand dropping to hold the man’s in place and the other sliding up behind him to stroke his cheek, rough with stubble, scratchy against his fingers, before dropping to rest lightly on his neck. He couldn’t tell the difference anymore between the kicks of the bass, his own heartbeat, the man’s, all of it blurred together into something confused, noisy, wild, pounding through him.

His body was reacting, eager, keen. He knew his face was definitely flushed now, from the alcohol and from the way the man was pressed against him, from the way they were moving together now. Shoma scraped the man’s neck with his fingernails, gently, a test, a push. He reacted favorably, digging his fingers into where he’d gripped Shoma’s hips, grinding just a little bit harder. Shoma bit his lip, hard. He felt tingly, charged, all over, the familiar tension rising in his belly but his mind was fighting, screaming. _It’s not Yuzuru. I want Yuzuru._

No. He couldn’t do this. He had to stop, had to get away. He tried to look for Keiji, subtly, but he couldn’t find him now in the swell of bodies, he couldn’t help. He took the opportunity of the change between songs to slide gracefully out of the man’s grip, turn around and smile. Something. Needed something. The stranger was still smiling, kindly, and Shoma felt a tiny pang of guilt. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know. How could he? The man raised his eyebrows inquisitively and Shoma smiled back at him.

“Drink!” He said, wincing a little at how enthusiastic he sounded as he used one hand to mimic drinking. Hoping it wasn’t too obvious an excuse, hoping the man wouldn’t ask for one too.

But he didn’t, he just nodded and winked and kept dancing. So Shoma kept smiling, waved with both hands and turned to start shoving through the crowd, back to freedom, back to air, back, just back. Maybe he could find Keiji and they could just leave and Shoma could just go back, back to his room, back to safety, back to shove his face into his pillow and yell in frustration and just-

He made the final push through the crowd, off the dance floor and stumbled a little, taking in a big gulp of air. His head was swimming. The sudden freedom of the space around him now felt like a comforting hug. He made a beeline for the bar, gripping the edge of it with all his strength until his fingers hurt and taking deep breaths. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to order another drink but Shoma did it anyway. Keiji. Gotta find Keiji. He looked around, his eyes widened. There he was, but he was still with a girl, and now they were leaning on one of the bar’s small tables, and Keiji was smiling, she was laughing. Shoma took a big gulp of his drink. He couldn’t bug Keiji now. He pulled his phone out from his pocket with slightly trembling hands, firing off a quick text to Keiji. _Going back now. Didn’t wanna interrupt. Nice! Call me tomorrow?_

He turned to face the bar, setting his drink down and leaning on his elbows, staring at his phone screen and starting to gnaw on his lower lip. He pulled up a taxi app. Paused. Closed it. Stared some more. Opened LINE again. Clicked on Yuzuru’s name. He stared at the chat box for some time before setting his phone down on the bar, taking another big sip of his drink. Picked his phone up again. His fingers hovered over the keys for what felt like a very long time. His head was spinning, his body still edgy, nervy, wound up. He typed.

_I need you._

Paused. Backspaced.

_I_

The cursor blinked as he hovered. It felt weirdly demanding. Accusatory. Shoma gritted his teeth.

_I want you._

He hit send before he could overthink it and take it back. “Read” appeared so quickly he did a double-take, and forced the next message out before he could change his mind.

_Come get me?_

He dropped the pin with his location and stared numbly at the screen, at the instantaneous “Read”s. At the dots, appearing. Stopping. Appearing. Stopping. His chest felt tight. Finally, a message. Just a thumbs up emoji. He blinked. Shoved his phone back in his pocket. Okay. He picked up his drink and threw the rest of it back. Started to make his way back to the stairs, back towards the entrance. They hadn’t spoken, but Yuzuru was coming. What would he be like? What would he say? Why was he coming at all? Why had Shoma even asked him to?  
  
He realized, staring at his own white-knuckled grip on the railing of the stairs, that he might be a little drunker than he thought. Maybe that was fine. Maybe that was just right. Blame it on the drink, just like he was pretty sure Yuzuru did almost every time they fucked.

By the time he’d managed to carefully descend the stairs and navigate getting his coat back from the coat check, he could see the bright light of a taxi top sign idling outside. He squinted, then felt his heart skip a beat, at the lone and familiar figure waiting by the taxi door.

“Yuzu.” He mumbled to himself, words coasting out on a sigh of relief as he pushed the club door open, waddling carefully to keep his balance as he stepped outside.

He pulled his hands back inside his sleeves, clutching at the hems, as he tried to walk as confidently and soberly as possible towards Yuzuru, but his legs betrayed him and he stumbled, flailing wildly to stay upright as he caught himself. A giggle he knew so well, a giggle he loved, drifted over to his ears. A soft, patient voice. “Shoma...are you okay?”

And he couldn’t stay mad, couldn’t hold onto his anger, all he wanted was that comfort, that familiarity, that gentle voice to take everything else away, none of the rest seemed to matter anymore, not right now. And so he let his next stumble carry him forward, straight into Yuzuru, melting into him and letting out a tiny “mmph” against his chest as Yuzuru laughed and stumbled back, arms still rising up to grab Shoma firmly against him while he struggled to keep them both standing.

“You’re drunk.” Yuzuru stated, but it wasn’t the harsh, scolding tone Shoma had been expecting. It was soft, fond.

He wondered, idly, what that meant, as he rubbed his face against Yuzuru’s chest and nodded. “Mmm. Yeah. Thank you. For coming.”

Yuzuru lifted a hand to tuck his fingers under Shoma’s chin, forcing him to tilt his head up, to meet his eyes. His face was warm, gentle, like he hadn't been ignoring Shoma's very existence hours earlier. It was confusing, but Shoma found right now he didn't mind. His fingers moved to stroke Shoma's cheek, briefly pausing to tap on the beauty marks there as he spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper, “Hey…of course.”

Shoma blinked back what felt like tears, what kind he wasn't sure. “I’m sorry.”

No. That wasn't it. That wasn't what he wanted to say, but it was too late now. Yuzuru gave him a tight-lipped, pained little smile and shook his head. Maybe it wasn't what he wanted to hear either.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Keiji.” He said, a burp squeaking out on the last syllable. Yuzuru just raised his eyebrows. “Keiji's idea. Stupid.”

“What, really? Our Keiji?”

“Mmm.”

“That's…well. That's surprising.”

“He's with someone…in there…I don't wanna…he's fine.” Shoma raised one hand to flap it in the direction of the club, wobbled slightly on his feet. “I don't want…that. Don't want it. Just want you.”

Something flickered across Yuzuru’s expression that Shoma couldn’t place. Stupid things were coming out of his mouth now, silly things, but he was too tired or maybe just too drunk, to stop himself.

“Okay.” Yuzuru said, moving his hands to Shoma’s shoulders to start guiding him into the waiting taxi. “Let’s go home.”

Yuzuru tried his hardest to make Shoma sit upright in the back of the taxi but Shoma was giggly and drunk and insistent and wouldn’t budge from a determined flop over into Yuzuru’s lap. Yuzuru cast an apologetic glance at the driver as Shoma wiggled around to get comfortable. Shoma knew he was gazing up at Yuzuru adoringly, he knew he’d hate himself later for it, but right now he didn’t care. He just wanted. And wanted to feel. To let himself feel.

His smile broke into a wide grin when Yuzuru looked back down to meet his gaze. Yuzuru looked a little exasperated, a little lost for words, but he smiled back. It looked genuine. His eyes crinkled at the corners. The street lights were bright enough that Shoma could still see his face well enough, casting shadows that only served to illuminate both how handsome and how pretty he was, without even trying, just by existing.

“Stars.” Shoma said simply, folding his hands over his chest.

“What?” Yuzuru blinked.

“Stars. Your eyes. They’re like stars. Full of stars.”

Yuzuru blinked again, a dusting of pink across his cheeks still visible in the half-light.

Shoma reached one hand up to trace Yuzuru’s lips with the tips of his fingers, back and forth, slowly, gingerly.

“Sugar stars.”

“What?” Yuzuru mumbled against his fingertips.

“Your lips. Taste like sugar stars. Kissing you.” Shoma licked his lips, which were suddenly feeling very dry. “I love…”

Yuzuru’s breath hitched in his throat, his lips trembled under Shoma’s fingers. Shoma froze, eyes widening as he caught himself before the last part of the sentence could slip out. _You. I love you._ The air suddenly felt weighted, thick and heavy between them. _I love you, you big stupid idiot, why don’t you see me? Why won’t you love me?_ Shoma’s mind kept racing down the path of everything unsaid, while his mouth trailed behind, struggling to save him under the fog of the alcohol.

“...kissing you.” He managed finally. “Tastes good. Feels nice.”

Yuzuru closed his eyes and let a shaky breath out against Shoma’s fingers before kissing them gently. “Shut up, cheeseball.” He murmured, but he was smiling, one hand coming up to squeeze the one Shoma had left laying across his chest. “We’re nearly there.”

Shoma didn’t look where they were or where they were going, his eyes stayed focused on the way Yuzuru had laced his fingers with his own, staring solidly at their interlocked hands as Yuzuru tugged him along behind him. Focused his mind on keeping one foot in front of the other as they hurried inside. Yuzuru tugged him gently inside the elevator and turned him around so he could hug him from behind, planting a small kiss on the top of his head before resting his chin there. Shoma let out a tiny noise of protest, annoyed at being reminded of his height, especially right now, but Yuzuru just squeezed him tighter.

They made it maybe two steps into Yuzuru’s room, long enough for Yuzuru to close the door, before he was reaching his hands up to tangle in Yuzuru’s hair, pulling him down into kisses that were hot, heavy, frantic. Yuzuru responded in kind, fingers finding Shoma’s hips and digging in, a happy sigh that almost sounded like relief escaping his lips. Shoma broke the kiss to shrug his coat off, bringing his hands back up to cup Yuzuru’s face, but Yuzuru frowned and Shoma paused, tilting his head.

“What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing, Sho, it’s just….” Yuzuru stroked up and down his sides, drumming his fingers along Shoma’s ribs when he passed them. “Are you sure? You’re drunk.”

Shoma laughed, and was surprised, somehow, at the bitter sound of it. “So? You’re always drunk. Come on.”

Yuzuru flinched but didn’t argue, grunting and leaning back in to start kissing him again. Shoma stroked his hands down Yuzuru’s neck, down to his chest, to curl his fingers in the fabric of Yuzuru’s shirt and tug him backwards, further into the room. This time, Yuzuru broke the kiss to shrug off his already open jacket. Shoma took the opportunity to look around the much bigger than expected hotel room. The very large bed was the centerpiece of the room, flanked on either side by what looked like granite steps, the left one leading to an en suite, the right one a mystery from his current angle. A ridiculously large tv was mounted on the wall across from the bed, hanging over an elaborate dresser. Shoma shook his head and looked incredulously up at Yuzuru.

Yuzuru raised an eyebrow. “What?”  
  
“How come we never go to your room? It’s so much nicer.” Shoma said with an open wonder.

Yuzuru looked away, hands fidgeting with the ties of his sweatpants. “You never...come to my room. I guess that’s why.”

Shoma blinked slowly. He felt stupid. Then guilty. Then stupid for feeling guilty. No. He wasn’t going to let Yuzuru flip this on him now.

“I never knew that I could.” Shoma said plainly. He moved his hands to grip Yuzuru’s, pulling them gently away from the drawstrings. Yuzuru stared down at their hands, biting his lip. He didn’t answer, only shrugged half-heartedly. Shoma let go of his hands to tuck his fingers in Yuzuru’s waistband, sinking down to his knees.

“Shoma, wait.” Yuzuru’s hands found his again, squeezing, stopping him before he could tug the waistband down, down over the generous curve of Yuzuru’s ass, over the tent forming in the front from his half-hard cock. Shoma looked up at him curiously, confused. It wasn’t often that he did this, not because he didn’t like it, or didn’t want to, but because Yuzuru was usually eager to do it _first_ , and by the time he was finished Shoma usually couldn’t think straight and just wanted _more_ and-

“I want to take care of you, tonight. If that’s okay.”  
  
Yuzuru’s voice shook him from his wandering thoughts. His tone was so soft, so earnest, it would have made his head spin if it hadn’t already been spinning, still, from the alcohol.

“Y-yeah. That’s fine. I just...really wanna do this first. If that’s okay.” Shoma flexed his fingers under Yuzuru’s, tugging again gently at the waistband of his sweats, impatient.

“Of course, just…” Yuzuru swallowed, hard, eyes darting from side to side before slowly meeting Shoma’s expectant gaze. He let Shoma’s hands go, his own hovering, hesitant, before dropping to hang a little awkwardly at his sides. Shoma set to work immediately on his mission to remove Yuzuru’s pants, then his boxers, fingers clumsy and fumbling. “Not too much...I don’t wanna...you just look so _good_ when you do that, Sho, and you’re so _much_ , and I _mean_ it, I wanna take care of you tonight and-”  
  
Yuzuru’s rant stopped short, mouth hanging open as Shoma looked him dead in the eye and licked a wide swath up his own palm with his tongue.

“S’okay. I won’t.” Shoma said as he wrapped his licked palm around the base of Yuzuru’s length, making him gasp and his hands twitch at his sides. He brought his other hand up to curve around and grip one of Yuzuru’s ass cheeks. “Just a little.”

And then he took the head of Yuzuru’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, savoring every second of the cry it drew from Yuzuru, the feel of Yuzuru’s fingers immediately twisting through his hair. Urging him closer, urging him to take more. He tongued the slit on his next pass around and hummed as he felt Yuzuru’s fingers tighten in his hair, heard him curse under his breath. Shoma could feel Yuzuru’s cock twitch in his mouth as he took him deeper, fully hardening under his rapt attention, and he loved the little surge of power it made him feel, loved the way it made Yuzuru _pull_ at his hair now, scalp tingling from the painful sensation, laced with an undeniable pleasure, as the head of Yuzuru’s cock hit the back of his throat. He couldn’t stop his own moan from escaping, knowing full well it would make Yuzuru’s hips snap forward, make him curse even louder.

Shoma tightened his grip on Yuzuru's ass, giving it a little squeeze as he started to move his mouth up and down Yuzuru's length, nice and slow, occasionally swirling his tongue around in all the right ways he'd carefully committed to memory, ways he knew were guaranteed to drive him crazy. He could picture it perfectly, the way Yuzuru must look right now, but he wanted to _see_ , so he rolled his eyes up, up to peer through the fan of his own eyelashes, up through his now messy hair, happy to find Yuzuru was already studying him intently, mouth agape and cheeks flushed pink. Sweat was already dotting his brow, strands of the hair laying across starting to look damp. His eyes were half-lidded but dark, hungry, pupils blown wide. There was a concentrated effort creating lines across his face, an effort to withstand, an effort to hold back, to resist giving in right here and right now and letting Shoma suck him until came, no doubt with a choked cry and an uncontrollable thrust of the hip. He committed this moment to memory, too, something secret to relish later, when he was alone again. Remember. Remember the way Yuzuru was looking at him now, like he'd never wanted anything more in the world than Shoma on his knees.  Commit it to memory, so in the morning he’d have something that had stuck around. Yuzuru shuddered and bit back a whimper, and Shoma decided that was enough, just enough.

He let go of Yuzuru's ass, of his now definitely fully erect cock, making sure to pull his lips off of it in a way that would make an obscene and wet popping sound. He paused for just a moment, so his small pants for breath would tickle the head, sending another shiver through Yuzuru as he let his fingers untangle from Shoma's hair, before sitting back onto his heels. He placed one arm behind him to lean back on, palm flat on the ground, other hand busy with the buttons and zipper to his own jeans.

His eyes never left Yuzuru's as he reached into his boxers to take his own erection into the firm grip of his hand and begin stroking himself. He wondered how he must look to Yuzuru right now. Eyes glazed, drunk and heady with lust, flush creeping up and spotting his jaw. Hand and cock invisible behind the barrier of his clothes, but the motion, the way he sucked his already puffy and slightly swollen bottom lip between his teeth to bite back a moan, one that still slipped out as a long, satisfied “mmm”, making it more than obvious exactly what he was doing.

“Sho, _fuck_.” was all Yuzuru could manage as he nearly tripped over himself in his haste to toe his way out of the sweatpants and boxers pooled around his ankles. “Bed. Now. Please.”

Shoma let out a breathy laugh as Yuzuru pulled his own t-shirt over his head so quickly his arms knocked together and it got stuck temporarily over his head. Shoma barely had time to stand up before Yuzuru was pulling at his clothes and pushing him, gently but impatiently, towards the bed. It wasn’t long before Yuzuru had him pressed against the mattress, one hand tilting his face up to slot their mouths together again. Yuzuru was the first to deepen the kiss, but also the first to soften it, pulling back to gaze softly down at Shoma, lifting a hand to brush the hair back from his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He murmured, attempting to a tuck a few more strands of hair behind Shoma’s ear. “Is this okay?”

Shoma let out a frustrated groan and rolled his eyes, then his hips, as if Yuzuru even needed the reminder of what sort of state they were both in. “Yuzu, I’m fine. What's with you tonight?”

Yuzuru’s eyelashes fluttered as Shoma pressed their lower bodies together and he nodded. “I just…you were so drunk when I picked you up, I just wanna make sure.”

“Not any drunker than you usually are,” Shoma muttered, senses sharp enough to note the way pointing that out made Yuzuru flinch again, “I'm fine, promise. Now come _on_.”

Yuzuru moved his fingers back to Shoma’s chin to tilt his face up again and kissed him, long and slow. Shoma let himself melt into it, closing his eyes, unable to stop a tiny mewl from escaping his lips. He was drunk, sure, a little bit, not as much as earlier, after so many drinks and so quickly - it was still wearing off and his head would maybe still hurt in the morning, but he wasn’t _too_ drunk. In fact, he’d file his drunk level under “just drunk enough” - just enough that he could let go, really enjoy it, without worrying, without hurting, not now. Later. Tomorrow. Not now. His body was still buzzing, alive, and his head was less spin, more bubbles, like the fizzy way champagne tasted, tickling the top of your mouth.  And Yuzuru was genuinely so different tonight, if anything _that_ was making him feel weird. Like a static charge, like a shift in the air. Right now, he wasn’t just miles from the cold, stony Yuzuru earlier today, he was miles from the nervous and fidgety spectre of Yuzuru from Sunday night, storming out of his hotel room before Shoma could see him cry. He felt closer, now, somehow, closer than he’d felt in a long time, and for some reason, some reason Shoma didn’t or maybe even couldn’t think about right now, it put him on edge, made him wary.

“Roll over. On your stomach.” Yuzuru’s voice pulled him again from his thoughts. Shoma frowned at him, confused, but Yuzuru just raised his eyebrows expectantly, so Shoma complied, rolling over and folding his arms onto the nearest pillow, resting his chin over them with a sigh.

“Okay, but why?” He mumbled, eyes flickering closed as Yuzuru hovered over him and nipped at the top of his ear, his earlobe.

“You’ll see.” Yuzuru murmured in return, and started to slide down Shoma's body, hands stroking his sides as he peppered kisses down his back. His hands stroked Shoma's cheeks, pulled them apart gently and ever so slightly.

He was expecting the pressure of a finger pushing in, cold and oily-slick with lube, so when he felt something warm and wet lick and then press against his entrance, his entire body _jolted_ , erection almost painful against the mattress, making him gasp suddenly for breath. “Y-Yuzu?!”

Yuzuru's tongue withdrew and he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to one of Shoma's cheeks. “Is this okay?”

“Y-yeah, it's very okay, don't stop, I'm just…surprised.” Shoma felt his face getting hot. He gripped his own elbows tightly and pressed his face down into his arms. “You don't usually…”

This was something they'd both done before, but not often, and Yuzuru was more often the recipient than Shoma. But he liked it, he _really_ liked it, and he wondered now, as Yuzuru placed a string of kisses along the backs of his thighs and whispered, “I told you, I want to take care of you tonight,” he wondered if Yuzuru knew that, too. Noticed the way he'd reacted before and filed it away somewhere, made a note of it. It made his face feel even hotter and his heart dare to skip a tiny beat.

He bit into his arm to try and stifle a moan as Yuzuru returned his attention to Shoma's hole, tongue tracing a circle around the outside before pushing in again, strong, eager against the tight ring of muscle there. His body felt tingly all over, like little shocks were coursing through him with every little push of Yuzuru’s tongue, in and out, sometimes pausing to circle the rim again or give it a tiny flick.

When Yuzuru paused again, Shoma took the opportunity to unfold his arms and grip either side of the pillow, curling his fingers tightly into the fullness of its sides. He knew what was coming next, a small shiver of anticipation running through his body when he heard the unmistakable sound of Yuzuru sucking wetly on his own fingers. Shoma pressed his hot face into the cool, satin fabric of the pillowcase, bracing for the first push in. He felt vulnerable, exposed, lying prone and allowing himself to fall apart so visibly under Yuzuru’s touch. Having Yuzuru so tender, so attentive. It wasn’t that this sort of intimacy was totally alien to them, it was just....rare. It had been a while, since it had felt like this. Truly, he wasn’t really sure it had ever felt _quite_ like this. Something was different, Yuzuru was different, but he didn't have the time or the focus to keep thinking about it right now.

He had expected, readied himself as best he could for what he knew was coming next. Yuzuru, shifting the hand he’d left on Shoma’s ass up and over both cheeks, splaying his fingers and keeping them spread as best he could with one hand. Yuzuru, testing one finger, then two, making Shoma’s hips twitch and a muffled whine escape into the pillow. What he hadn’t expected were Yuzuru’s fingers stilling, stretching inside him, so his tongue could join them, just a little further, just a little deeper. It sent a wave of pleasure crashing through Shoma’s entire body, toes curling and head jerking up from the pillow, startled gasp stretching into a garbled, animalistic cry. Yuzuru hummed, pleased, and that, too, made Shoma groan and rut into the mattress, fingers clutching the sides of the pillow so hard now he could feel the hard ribs of the feathers inside it.

Shoma could feel his legs shaking as Yuzuru’s tongue worked him open, fucking into him between his spreading fingers, his hand pressing down now, firm, shoving Shoma’s cock harder into the mattress, making him whine. He could feel his own pre-cum, sticky against the hotel sheets and where his cock was pressed tight to his belly. From the way the pressure was coiled in his stomach he knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer, to take much more.

And that’s when Yuzuru moved his hand from atop Shoma’s ass to wrap around and shimmy and squeeze in-between Shoma’s body and the mattress until he could take a firm grip of Shoma’s cock, pausing to slick up his fingers in the fluid drooling from Shoma’s tip before he started to stroke, hard. Shoma’s vision went white-hot, hips jutting forward automatically and a strangled cry tearing itself from his throat as Yuzuru brought him over the edge. He was still shaking, limbs feeling both heavy and boneless as he let himself sink into the mattress with his release, still faintly aware of Yuzuru’s hand around him, easing him through, of Yuzuru’s body, solid and warm, tucked between his trembling legs. Still whimpering, softly, as he came down, hot breaths making the pillow slightly damp.

Sinking into the mattress, sinking into the bliss, it took him a moment to register Yuzuru’s feather-light kisses to the back of his thighs. The gentle tug of his hand, currently pinned between Shoma and the mattress.

“Hey...Sho...could you…” Yuzuru’s soft laugh made something else stir inside his stomach. Maybe butterflies.

“Mmm, yeah, sorry.” Shoma’s voice was muffled, face still smushed against the pillow. He groaned a little with the effort of pushing himself up onto his elbows, onto his knees, so Yuzuru could free his arm. Before he could collapse back down the bed, Yuzuru tickled his hips, gave his ass a quick, sharp smack. Shoma jerked and let out a small cry, more surprised than dismayed, but still looked back over his shoulder to shoot Yuzuru a tiny glare. But the way Yuzuru looked, the way he was looking _at_ Shoma, made his breath catch in his throat.

Yuzuru’s face was flushed, color high in his cheeks, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead in messy clumps. His breathing was fast, wound up but not winded. His eyes were hungry, dark pupils swallowing everything up, but still full of stars. Eyes full of stars, and gaze full of _Shoma_. The shameless _want_ was still there, naked and laid-bare. He licked his lips and looked Shoma up and down, slow. “Stay like that.” He whispered, voice husky, before standing up fully and hurrying quickly up the side stairs into the bathroom.  
  
“Seriously?” Shoma muttered, but a smile was playing on the corner of his lips. Yuzuru, sober, but drunk on _him_. It gave him another rush, another surge, of power, straight to his head, making him feel dizzy. Dizzy and _good_ , to be wanted, so wanted and so clearly. Desired. It was good.

He rolled his eyes at the sound of Yuzuru gargling from the bathroom and called out to him. “Seriously? Yuzu, I don’t mind.” But he smiled. It was sweet. Another tiny gesture that made his chest clench tightly around his heart.  
  
“I do! Just wait there!” Yuzuru’s slightly exasperated reply was punctuated with the sound of frantic rustling through and slamming of a couple bathroom drawers. Shoma took the opportunity to stretch a little, arching his back up, then down. Leaning back on his heels briefly before resuming the position Yuzuru had insisted he hold.

He was calm and ready again when Yuzuru returned and climbed back onto the bed behind him. Ready, happy, making a sound close to a purr when he felt Yuzuru’s fingers, now properly slick with lube, pressing at his entrance again. Small but still contented and steady moans pouring out of him as Yuzuru’s fingers worked him open. He stroked then gripped Shoma’s hips when he started to press himself inside, slow, gentle, pausing any time Shoma’s fingers clutched the pillow tighter, letting him adjust.

When Yuzuru’s hands left his hips, Shoma wasn’t expecting to feel them closing over his own, fingers seeking to lace together with his. Wasn’t expecting Yuzuru to curl over his back, to press a soft kiss to his temple as he started to move. Shoma gasped and tried to angle his face up to reach Yuzuru’s, desperate, suddenly, to feel his lips against his own, to taste them, to show him, without saying, everything this made him feel, right here, right now. But this angle wasn’t good, he couldn’t twist his neck enough, so he had to settle for mouthing once, twice, at his chin. He could feel Yuzuru shudder, feel the breath from his groan tickle his face. Intimate. Yuzuru’s fingers tightened around his. Too much. Too _nice_. Shoma let his head fall forward again, eyes slipping closed.  

Yuzuru pulled his left hand free from Shoma’s, trailed it down the side of his body before placing it back on his hip, holding him steady as he started to move faster. Shoma could feel everything, the pressure starting to build, feel the throb of his own length hardening again. This was always so much, so overwhelming. The sensation, being full, being filled. Fulfilled? _Trust._ Vulnerable, but safe, here, with Yuzu. It’s okay now, it’s _good._ So good. Yuzuru pressed another small kiss to his temple before rising back up, both hands back on Shoma’s hips. Shoma moaned and let himself collapse forward, folding at the elbows, ass rising up.

Yuzuru’s moan was sharp and stilted from the change in position, in angle. His fingers dug into Shoma’s sides, thrusts growing immediately deeper, harder. More. This made it easier, much easier, for Yuzuru to hit the spot Shoma wanted him most, and more, and soon Shoma couldn’t recognize the sounds coming out of his throat as his own. Shoma turned his face, cheek against pillow, to look back at Yuzuru as he pounded into him. His eyes locked with Yuzuru’s, dark and sparkling, still absorbing every second, every drop of Shoma and that, that felt like it punched all the air from his chest. Like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Like he’d never really breathed, not truly, until now. Stars, stars in Yuzu’s eyes, on his lips. Stars bursting in Shoma’s chest, now, making him cry out, helplessly, wild and raw.

He knew, he knew he was coming again, now, warm, stray spurts of his own release flecking his chest, his stomach. His body, quaking, eyes fluttering shut, pressing tightly closed against the world, against the flood of the _everything_ Yuzuru was making him feel. Yuzuru was close again, leaning over him, chest to back, guiding him down, down until his belly was flush against the mattress, still deep inside but slow, slow and gentle now, easing him through once again.

Yuzuru’s lips were wet against his ear, nibbling gently at the lobe. Now a whisper, “Just a little more, Sho, okay? Are you okay?”

Shoma nodded, with a tiny “mmm,” eyes still shut tight, relaxing into Yuzuru’s body as he rolled them both over, onto their sides.

Yuzuru’s right arm slipped under and around his neck, fingers stroking his cheek, while his left reached around and took a firm grip on Shoma’s upper thigh, pulling it back over the top of his own leg. He pressed his chest more firmly to Shoma’s back, sweaty and hot but welcome, welcome. Grounding, secure. Safe. _His._ Yuzuru pushed at Shoma’s face gently with his fingers, turning his head slightly, holding it there, so his lips could fumble for Shoma’s, messy, needy, wanting. When he drew back he pressed his forehead to Shoma’s, and they stayed mostly that way, brows equally sticky with sweat, mouths hanging slightly open, breathing in each other’s air. Shoma’s hand flitted up to touch Yuzuru’s face, to hold it there, fingers trembling against his cheek. His thrusts were slow and languid again, but deep, filling. Shoma felt high, dizzy with the feel of every motion of Yuzuru’s hips. Dizzy every time their lips brushed together but didn’t kiss. Close. Aching.

When he dared to open his eyes again, he found Yuzuru’s immediately, still fixated on him, trailing over his face, intent and full of wonder. Awe. _Love?_ No. Shoma bit his lip and glanced away, to stop it from hurting. To the blur of his fingertips, still balanced delicately on Yuzuru’s cheek. To the curve of Yuzuru’s shoulder, the sharp edge of his collarbone. Yuzuru’s eyes seemed unblinking and demanding his focus, his attention, holding his face firmly when he tried to turn away, so Shoma had to meet his eyes again, craning forward to catch Shoma’s lips with his own. Shoma whimpered against them, and felt Yuzuru gasp into his mouth in return, felt his hips start to stutter.

“Sho, I…” Yuzuru’s words were a fast whisper against his lips before turning into a loud, pitched cry Shoma knew well. He felt Yuzuru thrust once more inside him, deep, felt him pulsing, spilling, felt him still as the rest of his body kept shaking. Shoma just hummed and pressed his lips more firmly to Yuzuru’s, again, and again. Tightened his own hold on Yuzuru’s face, reassuring and calm. Yuzuru’s lips pressed back against his own, eager and sweet. When he pulled back, pulled out, Shoma shuffled their limbs about so he could turn and face him squarely, so he could rest his hands against Yuzuru’s heaving chest, tilt his head up to kiss the corner of his lips, his chin, the curve of his neck, the crook of his shoulder.

Yuzuru’s arms wrapped around his back, clutched at it almost desperately, pulling him closer, arms crossing and one hand immediately twisting through Shoma’s hair, cupping his head against his chest. Shoma mouthed weakly there, too, as if he could kiss Yuzuru’s heartbeat. His eyes felt heavy, with bliss and with sleep and he didn’t want to move from here, ever, but Yuzuru was kissing the crown of his forehead now, brushing the sweaty clumps of hair back from his eyes, nudging him gently into another series of small, feathery kisses, to his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, murmuring about the shower after two more soft kisses to his lips. Shoma groaned in protest, scrunching up his face, and Yuzuru’s laughter was high, musical. Another kiss and a sterner suggestion.

Shoma moved in a dreamy fog, exhausted and whelmed. He stood under the hot water aimlessly, rolling his neck, mind drifting pleasantly while he waited for Yuzuru to clean up the bed and join him. When he did, stepping into the shower with a tiny, “hey,” Shoma leaned back against him with a smile, tilting his head up, mumbling his own, “hi.” He let Yuzuru do the majority of the work, tired and lazy, still buzzing from the rush of...of the _everything_. Yuzuru didn’t seem to mind.

When Yuzuru shrugged the clothes from the floor back on, it vaguely registered in the back of Shoma’s sleepy brain that he’d been in bed when Shoma texted. It made something warm bloom in his chest as he pulled his own boxers back on and started to build his own little nest of space under the fresh covers. Yuzuru wasn’t long behind him, and wasn’t long invading that space, but for now, for now Shoma found he didn’t really mind at all. He felt Yuzuru's lips on his forehead again, heard him murmuring something against his skin but was too sleepy, too faded to make it out, and let the sound of Yuzuru’s even breathing, the pleasant weight in all his limbs and the warmth in his chest lull him into sleep.  


	5. Agave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sho, we…” Yuzuru’s gaze flitted up to meet Shoma’s. He sucked his lower lip in between his teeth and nibbled on it for a moment. Hesitating. Choosing his words. Let go. Let out a tiny puff of breath. 
> 
> Shoma looked back at him expectantly, his heartbeat kicking up again. 
> 
> “We shouldn’t arrive together.” Yuzuru finished, pressing his lips together and giving Shoma his best polite media smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the fastest I've ever posted a chapter! It's also shorter than what you may have gotten used to. Chapter 6 is probably going to take a bit longer to come out. I'm sorry if it feels like nothing much happens here! It's mostly talking. Also I'm sorry. You'll know when you get there. I've been all over the place while writing this so I'm pretty nervous about it, please feed me with validation via comments and kudos if you can! I could really use the reassurance. Or, if it is terrible, tell me so I can re-do it! 
> 
> I will unlock this temporarily for a couple of days, but then will be re-locking it again! Don't forget you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cakeandkuyashii) & [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/cakeandkuyashii) if you have any questions or want to follow me for updates!
> 
> Thank you to KSSC for all the cheerleading and to [shomaun_ho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shomaun_ho/pseuds/shomaun_ho) for beta-ing <3

Shoma might have slept through the buzzing of his phone if the sunlight hadn't already begun creeping into the room, playing over his eyelids and nudging him awake, awake enough to grope blindly for where he'd shoved his phone somewhere underneath the pillows. He felt a dull throb in his skull, a baby hangover making itself known. He pulled his phone close to his face and squinted at it blearily, loathe to open his eyes even a little bit. The screen was bright, too bright, and he groaned instinctively at the harsh light.

**KEIJI**

Keiji. Keiji. Shoma’s eyes shot open. Plan B. Keiji. Club. Shit. His fingers fumbled against the screen to unlock it, scrambling. He dropped the phone on his face before managing to press it to his ear, cursing under his breath.  
  
“Keiji.”  
  
“Yo, Shoma.”

Keiji sounded bright, chipper. Shoma frowned, rubbing his face with his free hand. How? Was he even really human? Shoma’s brain was still foggy, muddled with sleep, with the small but persistent pain concentrated in the top right corner of his forehead.

“Yo. Umm. What's up?”

Keiji's laugh was so cheerful Shoma wished he could punch him through the phone.

“What’s up? Shoma...you tell me. You’re the one who left early...how’d it go?”

There was another sound in the background of the call - a murmur, a giggle - high, feminine. Shoma’s eyes opened, widening, blinking slowly. “Keiji is that...did you…”

Keiji sounded smug, somehow, and Shoma could picture his expression easily from the tone of his voice - confident, a little proud, lips tugged up at the corner into a smirk as he fired back. “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, Shoma. So...tell me. How’d you do? Did you do it?”

“Very funny, umm.” Shoma blinked some more, letting his eyes adjust to the light and craning his neck to look around the room without having to roll over or move at all. “I...think so. I don’t know where I am.” He paused, heart beating a little faster at the sound of footsteps in the bathroom. Glanced at the obviously-slept-on other side of the bed. “There’s someone else here. In the...bathroom, I think?”

He felt weirdly nauseous at the idea. _Someone else._ Had he really? A small swell of pride, of surprise, at himself, mixed with the sick feeling in his stomach. The night before was coming back in pieces, flashes. He hadn’t blacked out, he wasn’t _that_ drunk, but his brain wasn’t working yet, it was so _early_ and the tiny concentrated pain in his head wasn’t helping anything. Was it the nice jaw and scratchy face man, from the...dance floor? Dance. Keiji, Keiji...shots, colorful shots. Smoke. Pressure, heat, grinding, stubble, sweat, booming. Shoma closed his eyes again and rubbed his forehead.

“Really?!” Keiji sounded just as surprised as Shoma felt. “From the text you sent I thought you just bailed.”

“Mm...I’m still...remembering, sorry.” Shoma frowned, chewing on his lip, creasing his forehead. Think. Remember. Stars. Taxi. _Heat_. Kissing. Gasping. Dark eyes. “Javi-man? Maybe. Probably.”

Keiji sputtered on the other end of the phone. “Whoah, wait, Shoma, what?! _Javi_?! You hooked up with Ja-”

“No! No, no, no!” Shoma corrected him quickly, waving his free hand insistently even though Keiji wasn’t there to see it. “He just looked like him...kinda…”

“Well, _that’s_ unexpected and interesting but we don’t have time to psychoanalyze your taste in men right now. Where are you? We gotta be at the rink soon. Wakey wakey. Rise and shine.”

The sound of water running, splashing against porcelain. Shoma’s heartbeat kicked up into overdrive.

“Keiji…” Shoma whispered, panic sinking it’s ugly teeth in, further and further, the more his mind clicked on through the hangover and the drowsy fog, through the quickly growing reel of flashbacks as his mind continued to piece together the night before,  “Keiji I don’t know English...what am I gonna do?! He’s gonna come out here any second now and I can’t...what do I do?!”

“Well, you apparently managed okay last nigh-”  
  
“That’s different!” Shoma hissed, “You don’t need words-”

The sound of the faucet stopped and Shoma felt a knot form in his stomach. Words...he frowned again. Japanese? _Take care of you tonight. Sho._ Sho? It wasn’t possible, right? Pink cheeks, hard thighs…

“Shoma? Earth to Shoma?” Keiji’s voice snapped him back to the matter at hand, to the sound of bare feet padding against marble, to the creak of the door swinging open, to the very familiar figure that emerged, bouncing down the steps with a familiar enthusiasm Shoma would always find completely and utterly unnatural for the very early time of day.

Yuzuru. Standing casual but resplendent in nothing but sweatpants, hanging teasingly low on his hips, showing off the carved out v-line of his lower abdomen. Yuzuru, patting his face dry with an embroidered hotel hand towel. Their hotel. Yuzuru, cocking his head to the side and smiling with one corner of his mouth.

Shoma breathed out. Felt the tension unfurl in his gut. Felt it clench again. For different reasons.

“I gotta call you back.” Shoma mumbled, hanging up the call and setting his phone back down next to his head.

It all came back in a flood now. Fleeing, stumbling into Yuzuru’s arms, into his bed. Tender, unwound. Shoma eyed Yuzuru cautiously as he approached the bed, climbing back into it and laying on his side, facing Shoma. He slid one arm under the pillow and lay his head against it, still smiling. His cheeks were a little pink again, eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that made him look demure, and shy, as if he hadn’t been pressing Shoma against this very same mattress with a very raw want hours earlier.

“Hi.” Yuzuru said, soft and warm.

“Hi.” Shoma rasped back, mouth suddenly quite dry. He wet his lips, and studied Yuzuru’s face in the morning light. Followed the peak of his cheekbones, down, down to the trail of his jaw and the tiny scar under his chin. Around, to the tiny mole under his ear, high on his neck. Tried to stop his eyes from trailing down the slope of his neck, the curve of his shoulder, to his bare chest and the tightly packed, sculpted muscle there. Failed. Swallowed hard and met Yuzuru’s eyes again.

“Coffee?” Yuzuru said next, shrugging a little with the shoulder facing the ceiling, raising his eyebrows. A harmless invitation. No big deal.

“Mm.” Shoma nodded, yawning wide. “Yeah. Sleepy.”

Yuzuru’s shy half-smile stretched a little wider. “I know. Come on. Let’s get dressed. There’s a Starbucks near the rink.”

\---

Their walk to the coffee shop was silent, but Shoma found it comfortable. Easy. Besides, it wasn’t very far. They walked close together, close enough that sometimes, the backs of theirs hands, fingers, brushed. His fingers flexed, wanting, seeking, Yuzuru’s. But he thought better of it, curled them into his palm. This was okay. This was fine. He didn’t want to push. Not after last night. Not before he knew what it really meant.

The silence didn't stay comfortable.

They both ordered to go, but sat down at one of the smallest circular tables. Why, Shoma wasn’t sure, but he followed Yuzu’s lead. Shoma gripped his coffee cup in both hands, pressing his palms firmly against the rough cardboard sleeve. Yuzuru opted to pick at the fraying edges of his instead, taking occasional breaks to tap his fingers against the hard plastic lid, sometimes spinning the coffee between his hands. Shoma bent down to rest his chin on top of his, tapping his fingers on the sides and staring hard down at the green plastic tabletop.

“So…” Yuzuru said finally, trailing off and clearing his throat.

Shoma glanced up at Yuzuru’s face, but Yuzuru, too, was staring very hard at nothing really in particular. Mostly at his own hands, at his own fingers as they fiddled, fidgeted.

“So.” Shoma added softly, taking a slow sip of his drink so he didn’t have to be the one to talk next.

The silence stretched out between them. Shoma studied Yuzuru’s face. It was a carefully held together mask of calm. His hair was carefully styled, bangs hanging down over one side of his forehead, which was smooth, eyebrows flat and not knitted together, though the way he kept twitching his nose made Shoma think that would’ve been a more accurate expression for his apparent mood. His nose...tiny, like a button, cute. Shoma repressed the urge to reach out and poke it. Not right now. Yuzuru would probably bite it off. He looked tense, but like he didn’t want Shoma to know it. He let his eyes roam down, over Yuzuru’s jaw line, his currently squishy looking chin, resisting another sudden urge to reach out and poke his face. He looked away, to distract himself from what was probably a very bad idea, down along Yuzuru’s arms, to where Yuzuru’s fingers were now drumming along the sides of the cardboard coffee cup.

Yuzuru’s long, delicate fingers. Yuzuru’s fingers, which only hours ago, had been very much inside of Shoma, driving him wild. He felt his face starting to flush at the memory and quickly looked back up to Yuzuru’s face.  
  
“Sho, we…” Yuzuru’s gaze flitted up to meet Shoma’s. He sucked his lower lip in between his teeth and nibbled on it for a moment. Hesitating. Choosing his words. Let go. Let out a tiny puff of breath.

Shoma looked back at him expectantly, his heartbeat kicking up again.  
  
“We shouldn’t arrive together.” Yuzuru finished, pressing his lips together and giving Shoma his best polite media smile.

Shoma felt his heart drop, all the way down to his shoes, tried to stifle his disappointment from showing on his face. “Yeah. Okay.”

Yuzuru’s forced smile stretched a little bit wider. “I’ll see you there, okay? Give me like a five minute head-start?”  
  
“Okay.” Shoma took another sip of his coffee, then stared concentratedly down at his cup again, so he wouldn’t have to watch Yuzuru leave. So he wouldn’t reach out, grab his hand, ask him to stay.

\---

Javi noticed Yuzu and Shoma as soon as he entered the small Starbucks, but they didn’t notice him. They were too busy staring at their drinks, at the table in front of them, and eventually each other. Javi eyed them both warily, suspiciously, as he waited for his order. It didn’t look good. It looked tense. Yuzu was doing that thing, that thing where he tried not to look agitated and only made it worse to anyone who knew him well enough - anyone like Shoma. Or, unbeknownst to Yuzu, silent observer Javi, who was now slinking back out off the coffee shop with hot drink in hand, finding a good vantage point on the glass storefront to lean against and keep an eye on his two idiot friends. The vantage point also needed to be a guaranteed stop on Yuzu’s imminent exit route. Because this was too much. This needed to stop. They needed to talk properly about this. Now.

He wasn’t waiting too long. He watched Yuzu push his chair back and head for the door, watched Shoma’s face fall as soon as Yuzu couldn’t see it anymore. Yuzu was chewing on the inside of one cheek, scowling, when he pushed the shop door open and strode out with purpose, deep in thought.

Javi reached out to grab Yuzu’s wrist, as he walked by, knowing his voice alone wasn’t enough to snap him from a concentration like that. “Yuzu.”

Yuzu froze, eyes widening and letting out a tiny startled squeaky noise. “Javi?!”

“Yuzu.” Javi squeezed his wrist before letting go, a silent request for him to stay put, to listen. “What are you doing?”

Yuzu huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defiantly. “Getting coffee, what does it look like?”

“Yuzu.” Javi pushed his breath out of his nose, irritated. “You know what I mean. What are you doing with Shoma?”

“Nothing.” Yuzu snapped back, narrowing his eyes and glaring now at Javi. “Getting coffee. Is a crime?”

Javi sighed but held his ground, glaring evenly back at Yuzu, exasperation creeping into the edges of his voice. “Really, Yuzu? You know what it looks like to me? It looks like you are using him. It looks like you do not care about his feelings at all.”

Yuzu snorted, his glare turned pointed. “Pot, teapot, _Javi_.”

Javi blinked and considered the pros and cons of correcting Yuzu’s idiom while silently counting to ten. Decided against it. When he spoke again, he used a tone he’d perfected over several years of training together at TCC, his best ‘don’t bullshit me Hanyu’ tone. “That was different, Yuzu, and you know it. Plus it was one time. A long time ago. Hey.”

Yuzuru’s chin had started to wobble. He looked away from Javi now, blinking rapidly. Javi gentled his tone, reached out and touched Yuzuru’s chin with the tips of his fingers, directing his reluctant gaze back to Javi.

“Hey. Yuzu. Listen to me, yeah? You know you are hurting him, right?”

“Javi…we can’t talk here...” Yuzu whispered, batting Javi’s fingers away. His eyes roamed back to the window, to glance at where Shoma was still sitting. He stiffened and made an irritated “tch” noise against his teeth. A sound Javi knew and recognized all too well.

Javi glanced back inside, looking for the source of Yuzu’s annoyance. Dai with his ridiculous caramel macchiato atrocity and his backwards baseball cap, sliding into the seat next to Shoma with a big friendly grin. Shoma, looking up startled, but then smiling back, no doubt grateful for the distraction, the company. The attention, even, of someone like Dai. Javi glanced back at Yuzu, at the tiny droplets caught now in his rapidly blinking eyelashes, at the way the hand clutching the coffee cup tightened its grip, nails pressing tiny crescents into the cardboard sleeve.

“No, not now. Not here. We have practice. But Yuzu. You need to talk about this. So talk to me.” Javi said slowly, evenly. “My room? After the show?”

Yuzu nodded, still gazing at Shoma and Dai with a look somewhere between forlorn and furious. Maybe a bit of both. “Okay. We talk.” He mumbled, then looked back to Javi. He shook his head and himself quickly and gave him a tiny, forced smile. “Let’s go now. Practice.”

\---

Yuzu stood staring at Javi’s door for a long time. He'd memorized every detail of the tiny gold numbers on the door now, the smudge of someone's fingerprint on the last digit. The tiny chip in the wood surrounding the peephole. He wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been standing here. Every time he raised his fist to knock, he hesitated, dropped it by his side again. Javi was right. He needed to talk. Talk to someone. About everything. Who better to talk to than Javi? Javi was safe. Javi was good. But talking...saying it out loud…

Yuzu might have never knocked, and Javi must have known that, because the door swung open and Yuzu’s thoughts were interrupted by Javi’s kind and completely unsurprised face, raising his eyebrows and gesturing for Yuzu to come inside with a nod of his head. Yuzu bit his lip and shrugged his shoulders at Javi, wondering if Javi maybe knew him a little too well.

They sat down on opposite sides of the small leather couch. Yuzu drew his legs up underneath him and grabbed one of the pillows, hugging it loosely in his lap. He knotted his fingers together, fidgeting, twisting them together, apart, together, apart. They sat in silence for a few moments until Javi cleared his throat. Yuzu felt weirdly vulnerable, naked under Javi’s knowing gaze. He shifted his weight back and forth on his curled up legs, looked anywhere but Javi’s face.

“So. Shoma.”

“Shoma.” Yuzu parroted back, nodding, trying to will his nervous heartbeat quiet down just a little, just back to normal.

“What’s really going on?” Javi’s tone was gentle, a tiny push. Somehow, it still felt as pointed as a sword straight to the gut.  
  
“Nothing, just…” Yuzu flapped one hand, a final attempt at hand-waving it all away from Javi yet again, a final defense. “Sometimes when I’m...get drunk, we...just fucking.”  
  
Yuzu finally looked up at Javi, sheepish, too curious to see his face, his reaction, to keep from looking any longer. Javi’s lips were pressed together in a tight line, jaw set. His gaze was stern. Javi didn’t buy it. Yuzu felt a little deflated. Like a tiny balloon having the last little bit of air squeezed out. His last hope he could have avoided this, that Javi would buy it and leave it alone.But he knew Javi wouldn’t. He knew that deep down before he opened the door. He knew that every time his fist had hovered and refused to knock.

“I already know that part. That is not why we are here, Yuzu, and you know it.” Javi scolded him gently, leaning his elbow against the couch back and resting his forehead against his fist. Patient. Firm.

“It is.” Yuzu protested weakly. Pitifully even. He looked down at his lap, at his own hands as he knotted his fingers together again, hugged the pillow a little closer.

“You are not always drunk.” Javi said plainly. His eyes felt like they were boring into Yuzu, seeing into him, seeing through him.

Yuzu swallowed, squeaked out a “no, “ soft and barely audible.

“Yuzu.” Javi’s voice was tender in a way that made him look up again, eyes owlish as they sought Javi’s. “Have you been drinking to make it okay to be with Shoma? To make an excuse?”

Yuzu’s mouth felt dry. He felt the lump rising solidly in his throat and swallowed again, staring back at Javi with wide eyes. A drink right now would be great. Funny.

“Who are you trying to fool?” Javi prodded again, gently. “Is it yourself?”

“I have to...I can’t…” Yuzu trailed off, staring back down at the pillow in his lap. He picked at the seams, searching desperately for the right words in English. How could he make Javi understand? Something like this...

“Yuzu…”  
  
“I can’t...I’m Yuzuru Hanyu.” He finished finally, meeting Javi's eyes again, fingers falling back loosely into his lap. Hoping in vain that it made sense. That Javi wouldn't make him go deeper.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Yuzuru Hanyu, I’m Javier Fernandez.” Javi's dry reply was confirmation that he was going to do exactly that. Yuzu fought the urge to chuck the pillow right at his stupid nice face.

“No, Javi, you don’t understand,” Yuzu protested, voice hinging on a whine, “I’m _Yuzuru Hanyu_ , I can’t be…” He stopped, biting at his lip, not wanting to say it out loud. Make it real.

Javi let the silence stretch out between them for just a moment, making sure, probably, that Yuzu really wasn't going to say it himself.

“Gay?” He finished Yuzu's statement softly, gingerly.

Yuzu winced. “Mm.”

Javi sighed, deeply, running one hand through his hair. “Yuzu, why not? Why does it matter?” When Yuzu didn’t respond, he lifted one leg, pushed gently at Yuzu’s knee with his foot. A physical nudge. “Because of Japan?”

“Because of who I am _to_ Japan.” Yuzu hated the way his voice sounded so small. Like a mouse. Like he was speaking in lower-case. He cleared his throat and shuffled in his seat, pulling his knees up, hugging them tightly against his chest, pillow still clutched in his hands. He tucked his chin over his knees and looked at Javi, willing himself speak stronger, louder. “You remember that award I get, last summer? The national honor.”  
  
“The giant gold plate? The one you babble about for months? Never heard of it.” Javi shot back playfully, complete with a wink.

This time Yuzu did reach out to whack Javi with the pillow, glowering as he laughed and dodged the incoming blow, pillow glancing off his shoulder instead of his head.

“Shut up! You know. You remember what I said? It’s a big deal, Javi.” Yuzu huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back on the couch to stretch his legs out and give Javi’s side a kick. “I’m like...national hero now. I have to live a certain way, now. All the time. Even in private life.”  
  
“A not-gay way?” Javi prodded gently.  
  
Yuzu winced again, gnawing at his lower lip and nodding. “Mm.”

“But _why_ , Yuzu?” Javi sounded slightly frustrated. Yuzu couldn’t blame him, not really. He’d been Yuzu’s only confidante about the entire thing, and even then he hadn’t told him much. Yuzu had been walking around like the cat who got the cream after Pyeongchang and Javi had called him on it. So he knew, that they’d been hooking up. He knew, when they slunk out of after-show parties, one after the other, where they were going. Why they were going. He knew to lie, if anyone asked.

He didn’t know Yuzu sometimes lay awake at night, heart aching and cheeks wet, wondering what he was doing, wondering what to do. He didn’t know how many times Yuzu had stared at his phone, finger hovering over the call button, but Yuzu had lost count himself after it passed one hundred. He didn’t know about the sharp pang of guilt Yuzu swallowed with the first sip of every drink. He didn’t know how much it hurt, the look on Shoma’s face every time he asked questions Yuzu couldn’t give him answers to.

But Javi knew _him._ And Javi was perceptive. And Javi seemed to have guessed, filled in, a lot of the blanks on his own. But this one, this one, Yuzu knew, he would need a little more help.

“Because! Japan is not like Spain, Javi. Japan is not ready.” Yuzu answered. He surprised himself a little at how tired, how resigned he sounded.

“Japan could change, Yuzu. It will change.” Javi tried his best to sound reassuring, but Yuzu just gave him a tight, bitter smile.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, “It is not for me to change it.”

“It could be. If you wanted to.” Javi offered, softly. There was a silent promise of support behind his words, Yuzu knew that. It made him feel warm, made him smile in spite of himself. Javi was good like that.

“No...I just want...private life. Quiet life.” Yuzu spread his hands out in his lap, stared at his palms. “Nobody’s business, you know? Just for me.”

“That’s okay, too.” Javi paused, shifting in his seat and wetting his lips while he figured out the right way to ask. He leaned further into the arm he’d propped on the back of the couch, smushing his own cheek a little. “So why…what is the problem then, if it’s quiet, with Shoma?”  
  
“ _Because_ , Javi!” Yuzu’s voice pitched right into a whine, hands slamming onto his own thighs in exasperation, but exasperation edged with fear. “What if they find out? Not even me I worry for, what happens to Shoma if they find out, his future, his name, his career, he...”

Yuzu trailed off, eyes wild and darting as his mind raced through all the terrible possibilities, all the worst things. He ran his fingers through his hair, pressed his forehead hard against his palm as he stared pleadingly at Javi, begging him to understand. Javi looked irritatingly calm. Yuzu wanted to kick him again. But he shoved it down, settled for pulling his legs back in, tucking them up underneath himself once more.

“Have you considered…” Javi started slowly, making sure Yuzu was finished, that Yuzu was calm enough to listen, “Maybe Shoma does not mind? Have you even asked him?”

Yuzu stared blankly back at Javi, blinking slowly. His mouth hung open slightly. He felt a little like Javi had slapped him.

“You know...your seniors, people find out, and they’re okay, yeah? Have you talked to them?” Javi ventured again, just as carefully as before, eyes scanning Yuzu’s face.  
  
“No…” Yuzu whispered numbly, staring at Javi with a slowly dawning horror, “I...I just decide for him, oh my god, Javi, I just choose for me, I’m so selfish, I-” Yuzu brought his hands up to cover his face, head reeling. Asking Shoma had never even crossed his mind.  
  
He felt Javi’s hands clamp down onto his shoulders, shaking him gently before squeezing, rubbing, reassuring and solid. “Hey, hey, Yuzu, your heart is pure, it’s in the right place.” A pause. Javi’s voice dropped lower, softer. “But you know your...complicated way of protecting him, you’re hurting him, right?”

“I never want…” Yuzu’s voice was barely audible, a hint above a whisper, shaking. He moved his hands away from his face, just slightly, and stared at them; spread his fingers and looked at the way they trembled now. He could feel the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“Yuzuru, he...he loves you, do you know that?” Javi rubbed his shoulders again, leaned in a little closer. His faint scent, musky and warm, drifted over as he did. Familiar and comforting against the jarring shock hearing those words spoken aloud sent through his entire being. Rolling off Javi’s tongue so easily, as if they weren’t earth-shattering. Massive. Behemoth.  
  
“How do you know? He tell you?” Yuzu whispered, so frantically it was nearly a hiss, staring with wide eyes at Javi through his shaky fingers.

“I have _eyes,_ Yuzu.” Javi replied simply, raising his eyebrows. Yuzu broke then, the sharp laugh he barked out mixed with a sob. His hands went back up to cover his face, shoulders shaking as he finally let the tears start to fall. Javi continued, still so gentle, so patient, “He is crazy about you, you are toying with him. Do you love him?”  
  
“I...Javi...I…” Yuzu stammered, choking back another sob and pressing his face into his hands. The tears were streaming freely now down his cheeks, slipping out between his fingers, speckling his lap. His chest felt tight, like his ribs were constricting around his heart. It felt like something inside him had tipped over, everything spilling out now in a flood.

He thought of the way the morning sun had caressed Shoma’s face as he slept beside him only hours ago today, dancing over his cheek and casting shadows where his hair was strewn messily over his forehead. Illuminating the strong cut of his jaw, the plump swell of his lower lip. Eyelashes so long and so striking against his skin, fast asleep, angelic, a stark contrast to the looks he knew that very same face could make, could make him feel. He thought of the way he’d reached out, wanting to trace his fingers along the curve of his cheek, tap the beauty marks there, brush the hair back from his eyes. He thought of the way he’d drawn his hand back instead, afraid to disturb him, afraid to cross the line they’d never drawn in the first place.

He thought about the way Shoma’s lips felt against his when they curled up into a smile mid-kiss. About the way his eyes lit up, sparkled, and his whole face scrunched up when he laughed really hard, folding himself in half with that stupid, endearing bubbly giggle. He thought about the way he always rolled his neck when he stepped onto the ice. How that never failed to remind him of the way his head rolled back in his arms, in his bed, eyes shut and lips slightly parted. He thought about the cute way he tilted his head, when he was confused, or thinking, or wanted something. The way he stared at new or interesting things with an unabashed and childlike wonder. He thought of Shoma’s fingers tracing his lips, the way he’d looked up at him, the yearning and soft look on his face when he’d almost, maybe, said it. The way he’d felt, pressed up against him, whimpering into his mouth, when Yuzu had almost, maybe, said it back.

Yuzu’s hands found Javi’s shoulders now, twisting in the fabric of his shirt as he mumbled, “I do, yeah, I really do, so much, and I-” Another sob tore it’s way out and Yuzu found himself folding into Javi’s arms, Javi pulling him closer and hugging him tightly. The dam had broken now and they kept coming. He could feel himself shaking with them. Javi alternated between rubbing and patting his back, tiny “shhh, shhh, shhh”s from his mouth, mumbled into Yuzu’s hair, but not to silence, just to soothe.

They stayed that way for a while, until Yuzu was sniffling more than crying, tears leaking instead of flowing. Javi touched his forehead to Yuzu’s, moved his hands up to his neck, another reassuring rub. “You know what to do, _cariño_ , yeah?” He murmured.

Yuzu nodded, wiping at his eyes with the backs of his hands. Javi smiled and moved his hands back down to Yuzu’s shoulders, giving him another gentle shake. “You need to talk to him. Tell him, not me. Give him something proper, yeah? Maybe ask him to be your boyfriend?”  
  
Yuzu squawked, a mix between a surprised laugh and another sob, one hand throwing a feeble and half-hearted punch at Javi’s chest as he let go of his shirt.

“Yeah...yeah…” Yuzu giggled, letting himself fall backwards and flop out along the couch. “Boyfriend, ahhh, Javi…I wanna tell him I’m sorry _now_.”

Javi grinned and patted his leg before standing up slowly and stretching. Yuzu hummed and rolled over onto his side, watching Javi wander about the room, tidying up here and there. Tiny rituals Yuzu recognized as Javi’s way of starting to prepare for bed. It was still early, but he was absolutely drained. Javi must be too.  

He pulled his phone out from his pocket and stared at the screen, chewing on his lip in thought. He started to type out a message, backspaced. Started again, backspaced. He let out a tiny sigh and flung his phone down beside him on the couch. The sound caught Javi’s attention. He turned around from where he’d been folding tomorrow’s training gear and threw Yuzu a small warm smile. A smile that asked if he was okay, without asking.

Yuzu smiled back, feeling the gratitude for Javi deep in his bones. It was a warm feeling, like cracking a cold egg into hot rice and mixing it until it was all warm and fluffy. Like being draped in a big, fluffy comforter after coming in shivering from the cold. And Yuzu found it felt good, to come in, finally, from the cold. It felt good that it was Javi there waiting to warm him up, with open arms. Understanding arms. Supportive arms. Warm. Good. Safe. Better. He felt much better, now. But exhausted.

“Can I stay? Am so tired.” Yuzu mumbled, squirming into the couch to get more comfortable as he asked, fairly confident in the answer.

“Of course. I’ll grab you a blanket.” Javi responded as expected, making Yuzu’s content smile grow a little wider.

“Thank you, Javi. For everything.” Yuzu said earnestly when Javi draped the spare hotel blanket across him.

Javi winked and reached one hand down to ruffle Yuzu’s hair affectionately. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy I could help you. Talk to him tomorrow, yeah?”

Yuzu made a tiny “mm” of affirmation as he nodded, “Gonna text him now, too.” He picked up his phone again and stared determinedly at the illuminated screen. It lit up his face as Javi clicked off the lights. “Don’t want him to worry.”

“Good idea. Good night, Yuzu.” Javi called out as he climbed into bed, turning off the bedside light as he did.

“Night, Javi.” Yuzu chirped back as he finished, finally, typing out his message and tapping “send.” He smiled to himself as he shoved his phone underneath the pillow and closed his eyes.

\---

“I can’t believe we went through all that just for you to booty call Yuzuru.” Keiji laughed, shaking his head in disbelief as he picked up his burger. He’d practically dragged Shoma out by the collar after the show had finished, very insistent on getting the full story, especially since Shoma had never actually called him back. The full story and also dinner.

“Last night was different!” Shoma protested, reaching out to punch Keiji in the shoulder. Keiji dodged, flinging a french fry back at Shoma in retaliation. Shoma’s lightning fast reflexes kicked in and he batted it straight back at Keiji without skipping a beat. “He was different. I don’t know.”

Shoma couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He knew he looked like an idiot, blushing and pushing at the salad on his plate with his fork, grinning stupidly at it, but right now he didn’t really care. Even after the weird coffee, his hope had stayed high. Something was changing. Something was just _different_.

He paused, thinking of how to explain it to Keiji, tilting his head and smiling down at his plate. “It was like...romantic? And sweet. Nice. He even gargl-”

“Stop! Stop right there. No.” Keiji cut him off, cringing, waving one hand in front of his face and clapping the other firmly over a now giggling Shoma’s mouth. “Forbidden knowledge. Do not want.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Shoma breathed out between embarrassed giggles, grabbing Keiji’s hand and pushing it away from his mouth. “It just...hasn’t been like _that_ in a long time. Maybe ever?”

Shoma thought back to the practice, to the show. Sure, coffee had been awkward, but Dai had been a happy distraction and by the time they’d walked into the practice together, Yuzu had been there for a while, and Yuzu had seemed...normal? Shy, even. It was sort of like always, but nothing felt forced, nothing felt fake. Lingering touches, secret smiles...they felt...genuine. Real. Shoma’s heart started to beat a little bit faster just thinking about it.

“But you guys still haven’t talked about it?” Keiji’s voice cut through Shoma’s daydreaming, strict tone drawing a shy, guilty glance out of Shoma as he shrugged in response.

“Not yet. No. But I think we will now. Soon. I don’t know.”

Keiji rolled his eyes, leaning over to knock Shoma’s shoulder with his own. “You’re impossible. Why do I even hang out with either of you?”

Shoma grinned and stuck his tongue out at Keiji. His phone buzzed and lit up on the table and he glanced down at it curiously. **YUZU-KUN**. He dropped his fork and snatched it up immediately, quickly swiping to unlock his screen, heart pounding even faster. Until his eyes scanned the words there, and his heart felt like it stopped.

_ >>I’m staying with Javi tonight. I’m sorry. _

Something indescribable enveloped Shoma, swallowed him whole. Rage coursed through him as quickly as sorrow. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to smash his phone against the table until he couldn’t read the stupid little letters on the screen anymore. _I’m sorry._ Sorry...sorry for what? Was it even a betrayal, when he was never really his to begin with? Stupid...so stupid…had he really thought things were different? Yuzu had just been letting him down gently. Giving him a nice parting fuck. A pity fuck. Pity. He didn’t want his pity. He didn’t want his anything, now. He winced, knowing as soon as he thought it that it wasn’t true. No, he didn’t want his anything. He only wanted his _everything_. But he had nothing...nothing to show but a broken heart and wounded pride. And for what? For what?

How could he? _How could he?_

And how could Shoma be so blind, so stupid, to think that anything had changed, could change, would change…

He turned his head slightly, tilted it, curiously, to look at Keiji. Really look. There was a pettiness, an anger, an envy, a desire to _hurt_ , stabbing in his gut. How would it make Yuzu feel, if he did the same back to him? Would he feel anything at all? Had he ever really felt anything at all for Shoma? Had the jealousy just been for show? Some kind of weird power play?

What would happen, if he leaned over now? Reached out and ran his fingers down along Keiji's jaw, traced it to the chin with just his fingertips, pulled him in? What would Keiji do, now, if Shoma leaned in and pressed their lips together, soft at first, testing the waters, before inevitably dropping his hands to curl into fists clutching the front of Keiji's shirt, pull him closer, press up tighter? Maybe nudge his lips open with his tongue. Maybe bite? A nibble, a tug, a test. Keiji was good, and Keiji was kind, so maybe Keiji wouldn't stop him, not here, where Shoma would be embarrassed to be rejected, so publicly. Maybe he'd hesitate just long enough to get curious, just long enough for his breath to hitch and the heat to rise and redden his high, sculpted cheeks when Shoma timed a little gasp, a little moan, just right as he pulled away.

Would he stop him there? Could he be swayed, just a little, just enough, for Shoma to pull him along by the hand, abandoning their dinner, into the men's room, to shove him up hard against the bathroom wall? Height would be a problem, for kissing. But not for Shoma dropping to his knees, tugging at his belt. Keiji was so kind, so gentle, Shoma bet he’d turn wild, feral, unhinged. He’d probably twist his fingers tight in Shoma’s hair, with both hands, probably hold him in place, so he could thrust, take control. Shoma wanted that desperately now, right now, someone to take over, take control so he could just float away, not think anymore. He wanted his mind numb and his body on fire.

What kind of noises would he make? Would he be soft gasps and whispered curses under his breath? Or would he moan, loud and low in his throat, head rolling back against the wall? Maybe both, louder as he got closer and closer. How long before he’d yank Shoma up by the front of his shirt, or by his collar, turn him around to shove him against wall, or maybe bend him over the sink? Could he get him that unwound, that unbridled, that he'd go that far? Hard, and fast, and rough, thinking only of the pleasure in the moment and no further, all-consuming and-

“Earth to Shoma...Shoma, are you in there?” Keiji’s fist rapping against his skull snapped Shoma immediately back to reality, and to the reality that it was _Keiji_ and there was no way. He couldn’t use Keiji like that. He could never do that. He gritted his teeth together. He wasn’t Yuzu, after all.

“You’re looking at me like I’m your burger. Stop it. What’s your phone done to you?” Keiji teased gently.

He handed Keiji his phone, wordlessly, face blank. He watched Keiji’s jaw drop open and brow furrow with anger as he read the short message.

“What the fuck, Yuzu.” Keiji groaned, handing Shoma’s phone back and leaning back, covering his face with both hands and making an aggravated sighing sound. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, at his temples, exasperation clear as he let a breath out in another annoyed sigh.

“I have to end it. I can’t do this.” Shoma mumbled, wondering idly why he sounded so flat, when he felt so dark, so angry. His hands balled into fists, fingers shaking as they cut into his palms. Searching for some kind of grip as the world dropped out from underneath his feet. He rubbed forcefully at his eyes, wiping any trace of tears threatening to spring up away as quickly as they came. No. He wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not anymore.

Keiji’s hand, reassuring and firm, clamped down on his shoulder, gave it a comforting squeeze. “Talk to him. For real this time.”  
  
Shoma just nodded, numb, and shoved his plate away. Somehow, he just wasn’t hungry anymore.


	6. Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s over.”
> 
> Yuzu felt his heart rip right in half.
> 
> “You should leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I've been really struggling with my writing lately for a lot of reasons. I'm not entirely happy with this and I feel disconnected from Konpeito so it feels hollow to me. I hope you can still enjoy it. Every kudo and comment is appreciated. More than you may realize. <3 This will be unlocked temporarily for the update, and locked again after 3 days. We're really in the home stretch now...one chapter to go. Thank you to my betas and cheerleaders, as always, you're the bright light in my dark writer's tunnel.
> 
> The version of the song Shoma skates to is the Boyce Avenue cover, you can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NTNp1IbNLzA

Yuzuru practically bounced out of his makeshift bed the next morning. He felt alive, refreshed, rejuvenated. Full of energy, full of daydreams about all the ways telling Shoma would go. He hummed to himself as he searched through Javi’s bags for an outfit he could borrow. He couldn’t wait, he wanted to go straight to Shoma’s room, to tell him right now. Confess. _Confess_. Yuzu giggled at the notion, feeling very, very cheesy in the very best of ways. Like some sort of shojo manga protagonist. He grabbed a plain pair of black sweatpants and one of Javi’s Spain football jerseys, pausing to consider before grabbing a pair of socks too. Javi wouldn’t mind, he was sure.

He was annoyed at himself for not showering the night before, but no matter, he’d do it now. He ran through all the scenarios in his head as he lathered up, running through each one, and just how he could phrase everything. How Shoma would potentially react in scenarios A, B, and C, but what if he changed out option 1 to option 4, would that work as well in scenario B as it did in the hypothetical run through of scenario A? He rationalized that Javi also wouldn’t mind if he just borrowed a little squeeze of all his toiletries, he’d understand, it wasn’t like they hadn’t shared if they needed to before over the years.

By the time he was done and toweling himself dry, he’d pretty much settled on how he would confess. He rehearsed it again and again as he shrugged on the borrowed clothes, checked and styled his hair in the mirror, gave his face another wash. Image training. He gripped the edge of the sink, steadied himself, stared at himself in the mirror.

"You can do this." He whispered to his reflection, to himself. He nodded, firm, confident. "You can do this."

He pushed off from the sink, ran his fingers over his fringe one more time, making sure every hair was in place. Took one deep breath and pushed it out, slow, letting his cheeks puff out. Okay. Okay.

Javi was still fast asleep, because of course he was. Yuzu smiled fondly at the huddled form under the blankets, the gentle snores emanating from it. Some things, in life, at least, were reassuringly constant. He made sure to close the door gently behind him, not to disturb the slumbering Javi, and pulled his phone out from his pocket to fire off a text before he left on his mission.

_ >>Borrowed some clothes! Went to tell Shoma everything. Wish me luck! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و Thank you~ _

His pulse hammered in his throat, in his chest, as he nearly skipped down the hallway, equal parts eager and nervous. His palms felt sweaty, clammy. He could do this. He could make this right. Get them back. Get _Shoma_ back. _His_ Shoma. With his big brown eyes that crinkled up when he laughed really loud, eyes that caught a special glint just before they closed when he was closing in for a kiss and his lips curled up in that way that always drove Yuzu wild, eyes that had gazed at him only yesterday morning with a softness, a fondness Yuzu had seen so rarely, lately, that he'd been wondering if it was really gone forever. The Shoma he liked being with so much. The Shoma he...loved.

He nodded to himself again as he neared Shoma's door. Loved. And that was okay. He should tell him, now. Before it was too late. He needed to tell him. To fix this, whatever this was. He didn't have to be afraid. Whatever came next, they could face it, together. He bit his lip and felt a pang of guilt again. He really hadn't given Shoma a choice before. Now or never.

Yuzu was in front of his door now, so he took one more deep breath before raising his fist and knocking, as confidently as he'd convinced himself he felt. He started counting after it felt like a minute had passed. Once he'd counted another, he knocked again, a little harder. He started smiling when he could hear Shoma shuffling and grumbling on the other side of the door. Maybe he'd been sleeping. Probably, actually. Almost definitely. Yuzu was pretty sure Shoma would forgive him, though especially after he finally said all the things he'd been rehearsing since last nigh-

The door swung open and Yuzu's smile stretched into a full grin. "Sho-"

“You have some fucking nerve.”

Shoma’s voice was hard, ice cold and jagged, cutting. Yuzu’s grin froze in place. Shoma’s eyes, narrow and angry, scanned him up and down and his brow furrowed even further, eyebrow twitching as he hissed air out between his clenched teeth. Yuzu’s face finally moved, lips turning down at the corners, smile fading, staring back at Shoma with an open confusion, a hurt. What had he done? He’d never seen Shoma like this, not directed at _him_ anyway. 

“Get in here before someone sees you.” Shoma grabbed him by the front of his shirt, clenching it in his fist and dragging him roughly into the room. Normally, this was a very good thing, and he’d soon find his back against the wall and Shoma’s lips pressed to his, hungry, hard, his teeth at his neck, searching, claiming, but this was different, this was new, this sent an unfamiliar sort of fear through him instead of anticipation. Shoma released him almost immediately and he stumbled forward with the force, body reeling alongside his mind. He caught his balance before he could fall, turning to face Shoma, bewildered.

But Shoma wasn’t looking at him. Shoma was standing with his legs apart but braced, as if he were pushing against the ground, and he was staring down at his hands, which he’d balled into tight fists. His head was bent, hair hanging in front of his eyes and obscuring them from Yuzu’s view. Yuzu bit his lip and backed up until he felt the edge of the bed meet the backs of his legs, and sat, not trusting them to hold him steady anymore. He twisted his fingers in his lap, opening his mouth to try and speak, but Shoma beat him to it.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

All the sound rushed out of the room. All Yuzu could hear was his own heartbeat, erratic in his chest, his own pulse, throbbing, so loud it felt like it was rushing up to spill out of his ears. His own mind, slowly catching up, catching on to what was happening, one word over and over again. No. No no no no no no no no. His blood itself felt cold, iced over, spreading up from his toes all the way up to every strand of his hair, making his whole body numb. Not like this. Not now.

Shoma shook his hair back and looked up. Yuzu felt his breath catch, his mouth hanging open stupidly as all the words he wanted to say dried up in his throat. The look in Shoma’s eyes was like nothing he’d ever seen before - hardened, and _hateful_. The scorn in them hit Yuzu like a punch in the chest, squarely between the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Shoma crossed over to the nearest chair and sat down, running his hands through his hair before looking back up at Yuzu. He let out a short, tiny laugh as he looked Yuzu over again; it seemed completely out of place in a way that only added to Yuzu’s unease.

“You come over here...dressed like that...after sending me that message...you’re really shameless.”

Something tickled the back of Yuzu’s mind, something panicky and frantic. Dressed like that? Message?

“I’m so fucking stupid.” Shoma looked down at his hands again as he opened and closed them, shaking his head slowly and letting out another weird and grating little laugh. “I really thought...I really thought things were going to be different. After the other night, I thought…” Shoma swallowed, looking up at Yuzu again with a tight-lipped smile stretched across his face, “I thought things were finally going to be okay. But you...you were just using me, again, and I let you, again.”

Yuzu’s body felt like it was stuck in tar, molasses, heavy and slow. He couldn’t move under the weight of Shoma’s words, couldn’t lift an arm, couldn’t wave a hand or shake his head, but his voice, finally, desperately, scrambled back out of his throat, tried to interject, “Sho-”

“Shut up.”

Shoma’s words struck him as hard as a slap across the face. His ears felt like they were ringing from a blow, from the shock. Shoma had never spoken to him like that before, never. This couldn’t be happening, right? Was he still sleeping? Was this a nightmare?

“I gave you enough chances to talk, now I have something to say and I need you to listen. I need you to hear me.” Shoma was trembling, but he stared at Yuzu with a stubborn determination, wetting his lips before he continued. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Yuzu could feel his own body starting to tremble, could feel the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes as he stared, helpless, at Shoma, every word out of his mouth somehow worse than the last, every one more painful, another stab in the gut, in the heart.

“Obviously...I have to. So I’ll be professional with you. But I’m not pretending everything is okay. Not for you. Not for anyone. Not anymore. This is too much.” Shoma paused, gnawing on his lower lip, voice softening a little as he added, “It hurts too much.”

Yuzu opened his mouth once more to try and interject, but the way Shoma narrowed his eyes at him made it snap closed again.

The strange, jarring smile was back on Shoma’s face now as he shook his head slowly and let out a bitter laugh. “It’s funny, you know? You’re the one who said I had a titanium heart. But you broke it.”

Yuzu’s vision started to blur, wet with tears he couldn’t stop from falling now, couldn’t lift a hand to wipe them away. His limbs still felt like lead and now his heart was pounding so loud it felt like it might break it’s way out of his ribs, which seemed to be squeezing his chest tighter and tighter with every passing moment.

“I hate myself the most,” Shoma continued, voice eerily matter-of-fact, “I was so desperate, for even just a little taste of you, of being with you, that you called, and I answered, again and again, I let you use me, again and again, just so I could pretend. So I could try and fool myself, into thinking you could ever…” He trailed off and shook his head again, glancing away for just a moment while he gathered his thoughts, and decided not to finish that particular one. “I’m not going to be your puppy, not anymore. Begging you for _scraps._ Daydreaming about the future while you’re _fucking_ someone else. And you...you get so jealous like you have any _right_ when you’re the one out there, fucking someone with a fiancée, and I’m the idiot, I’m the stupid, loyal dog shoving other men away and daydreaming about you, while you’re…”

Yuzu felt the color draining from his face as the puzzle pieces started to fall into place, but his mouth, his brain, still weren’t working, at least not fast enough, not fast enough to stop this from happening, to fight Shoma now and beg for a chance to explain, let alone confess. And now, now there was a voice screaming through the back of his mind that he deserved this, he deserved everything happening now, because this was his fault. Shut up and take it. You _fucked_ up, Hanyu. You reap what you sow.

“It’s over.”

Yuzu felt his heart rip right in half.

“You should leave.”

Shoma didn’t move. Yuzu finally did, nodding, silently, finally finding the strength to wipe at his eyes and push himself up from the bed. He could hardly breathe, let alone think straight, as he shuffled almost robotically to the door, too guilty and too ashamed to look Shoma in the eye anymore. Shoma didn’t make another sound, didn’t move an inch, as Yuzu let himself out of the room. He walked without purpose, at first, stumbling, wiping at his tears, trying to see through the blur, and think, through the haze of his thoughts. He wasn’t surprised when he found himself back in front of Javi’s door, nor was he surprised when his hand moved to start pounding on it urgently.

When the door opened and a very confused, sleepy Javi, complete with bedhead but missing his shirt, appeared, Yuzu broke. He flung himself at Javi with a loud cry tearing itself from his throat as he collapsed, crumpled, into Javi. Javi stumbled backwards, let out a tiny “oof”, but his arms came up to wrap around Yuzu in support, in comfort, kicking the door shut behind Yuzu and murmuring quiet “shhh”s into his hair as he cried.

“Hey, hey, hey, Yuzu, what’s going on? What happened, _cariño_?” Javi mumbled when Yuzu’s sobs quietened enough to get a word in edgewise.

“Javi...Javi, you were right, I couldn’t even tell him, I hurt him so bad, I don’t deserve him, I don’t deserve his forgiveness, Javi, he…” Yuzu babbled, words he couldn’t find before pouring out of him now in an endless stream, voice wavering and punctuated with sobs.

“Yuzu, Yuzu, breathe,” Javi said, firmer, rubbing one hand up and down his back. “Come on. Breathe. Let’s sit down, okay? You can tell me everything, but I need you to calm down and breathe, okay?”

Yuzu nodded, repeatedly, another sob hiccuping out as he pulled back and fanned at his eyes.

“Okay…” He whispered, “Okay…”

But nothing was okay. Right now, it felt like nothing was ever going to be okay, ever again.

\---

Shoma sat, alone, in silence, for roughly five minutes after Yuzuru left. He didn’t trust himself to move without shaking, and that could trigger a full collapse, the one he didn’t want, not alone, not now. He pulled his phone out of his pocket slowly, dragged his finger across to unlock it even slower. He bit his lip and stared at the screen for a moment before tapping into LINE, clicking on Keiji’s name. He typed one simple phrase. Stared at it, for a while, before hitting send.

>> _It’s over._

It was still pretty early, but Keiji was awake. His answer was simple. Just a number, his room number.

Shoma stood up and glanced at himself quickly in the full length mirror - he’d slept in sweatpants and a t-shirt - it would do. He ran his fingers through his hair and set immediately on his way for Keiji’s room. He felt like he was vibrating, inside, getting closer and closer to breaking with every step he took. The hallway felt impossibly long, like it was going to stretch on forever. He swayed on his feet when he was finally in front of Keiji’s door, legs suddenly feeling weak. It felt like it took all his strength just to knock.

When Keiji opened the door, he didn’t say anything, and neither did Shoma. Shoma just shuffled forward, until Keiji could reach over him to close the door and wrap him in a tight hug. They stayed like that, in silence, until Shoma’s shoulders started to shake. Keiji squeezed him a little tighter for a moment, then guided him slowly towards the bed, walking carefully backwards in order to keep Shoma pressed snugly against his chest. By the time Keiji had carefully sank down onto the bed and pulled Shoma with him into a comfortable cuddling position, Shoma’s sobs were audible. Keiji moved one hand to rub firm but gentle circles on his back, but said nothing. He was just _there_ and Shoma wasn’t sure if he’d ever appreciated Keiji more than he did now, in this moment.

Keiji held him there, just like that, not saying a word, until Shoma had exhausted every tear in his body. He pulled back only when Shoma wiped his nose on his shirt to flick him squarely between the eyes, muttering under his breath and getting up to get Shoma a glass of water and a box of tissues. Shoma let out a slightly delirious giggle and pushed himself up into a sitting position to receive them, sniffling and crossing his legs. Keiji stretched out on his stomach beside Shoma, grabbing his laptop from the other side of the bed and pulling it over.

They still didn’t speak. Keiji browsed the web, throwing on a playlist for a little bit of noise in the background while they simply sat. Eventually, Shoma pulled his phone out from his pocket again, loading up his favorite game. But the fire wasn’t there. The want. The fun. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t just pretend it was alright and play his game as if his world hadn’t just crumbled down around him. He sighed and threw it back down on the bed, stretching out to lay on his stomach beside Keiji, resting his head on top of his arms. They’d skipped practice and they might get in trouble, but not in as much trouble as if they skipped the show in a couple hours.

The thought of having to see Yuzuru made him feel dizzy, and sick, and angry all over again. He clenched his fists, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his palms. No. He wasn’t going to let Yuzuru get to him. Not when he’d already crept under his skin, into his bones, twisted around his heart, his ribs, without permission, without any right. He could do this. He had to do this. Besides, they still had another weekend left after this. He could keep it together. Four more times, and then he could go back to Nagoya and hide, and process. Maybe heal. By the time they met again, at the Grand Prix Final, or at Japan Nationals, Shoma would be ready. Tougher. Stronger. Care less. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.

“Hey, Shoma…” Keiji’s voice stirred him from his thoughts, a welcome distraction. “You know that new exhibition you’re working on? How attached are you to the music?”

Shoma shrugged, as half-heartedly as he felt. “Not very. Why?”

“I have an idea.”

\---

“New exhibition?” Dai asked Keiji casually, strolling over to lean against the barrier next to him. It was Friday. The Sunday show had been an absolute nightmare for Shoma, Yuzu, and anyone caught between them. The tension was palpable. They had both been a mess, distracted and unfocused and shaky where they were usually sure. Both were going to obvious lengths to avoid even having to look at each other, let alone interact.

Now Shoma was practicing before the Friday show, hurling himself recklessly into his jumps, jaw set and eyes glinting with an anger, a determination Keiji had grown to know well over the years. Well enough to be a little nervous. Whether it was for Shoma, for Yuzu, or for both of them he wasn’t sure.

Keiji glanced sideways at Dai, remembering he knew a little more about the situation than most. More than he probably wanted to.

“Nah...just new music. Couples of changes, I guess. He’s going through a lot right now. I thought it might help.” Keiji explained, nodding in Shoma’s direction. “Catharsis or something. I dunno. Guess we’ll find out. We’ve kinda been working on it since Monday. Came down early.” 

“Mm.” Dai’s eyes drifted across the rink to where Yuzuru was leaning against the boards, opposite them, and actively looking at any and everything that wasn’t Shoma. “What, uh...what happened? Yuzu’s definitely pouting and Shoma looks _pissed_. Did they have a fight or something?”

Keiji looked around them to make sure no one else was in earshot before replying. “You could say that. Apparently Yuzu uhh. Spent the night with Javi. Showed up at Shoma’s door in Javi’s clothes, even. Shoma ended it.”

Dai frowned, eyes following Yuzu as he skated his cooldown laps. “That doesn’t sound like Yuzu _or_ Javi.”

Keiji shrugged, “Yeah, I agree. But, you know Shoma. He’s shut down, he’s processing it his way. He won’t talk to Yuzu at all. Won’t let himself get fooled twice.” Dai flinched and Keiji gave himself a tiny mental kick to be more careful with his word choices. He threw Dai a smile and tried to lighten the mood. “Competitions are going to be pretty awkward for the third guy this year.”

Dai laughed and rubbed awkwardly the back of his head, “Yeah, guess so.”

Keiji shrugged and rolled his neck. “Maybe Shoma just needed an excuse to finally break it off, protect himself.”

Dai flinched, again, and Keiji kicked himself, again.

“Maybe.” Dai mumbled, clapping a hand down on Keiji’s shoulder to give it a friendly squeeze before stepping onto the ice himself. “Look after him, okay?”  
  
\---

“Yuzu...you have to tell him he got it wrong.” Javi sighed, watching Shoma do the angriest set of twizzles he’d ever seen.

“No, I don’t.” Yuzu shot back, voice short and clipped. “He won’t listen to me anyway.”

“You just don’t want to admit you’re a texting idiot.” Javi snapped back, leaning away as Yuzu turned to face him with an icy glare. “Drop your pride for two seconds, Yuzu, I’m begging you. I can’t take little Shoma staring at me like he can kill me with his mind any longer.”

“You will live.” Yuzu said, deadpan. “He can’t actually kill you with his mind.”

“Yuzu, if you don’t talk to him, I will.” Javi threatened, “This can’t...hey…”

Yuzu was staring straight ahead, past Javi, but his face had changed, eyes far away and lower lip drawn up into his teeth, being worried back and forth. He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “Javi...don’t. Please.”

His beg was gentle, pleading. It gave Javi pause. Made him reach his arm out to squeeze Yuzu’s upper arm, rubbing it reassuringly up and down, ignoring the dagger-like stares now beaming across the rink from the general direction of Shoma. Yuzu took a deep, shaking breath and blinked his eyes rapidly.

“I need time. I can’t talk to Shoma. It hurts to look at Shoma. I’m not ready, Javi.” He admitted, lifting one shoulder in a tiny, half-hearted shrug. “He hates me. It hurts.”

“Yuzu, he doesn’t hate you. He thinks we fucked.” Javi said dryly, giving Yuzu a tiny shake. “I would say take your time, but this is the last weekend. You need to fix this. Who knows when you’ll see him again?”

Yuzu shrugged with both shoulders this time, looking away from Javi and down at the ice, kicking at it with his toepick.

Javi sighed again, giving Yuzu one more gentle shake. “Will you at least let me tell him we didn’t fuck? Please? On the last night at least? For my sanity. I don’t have to tell him all the other stuff. Okay?”

Yuzu shrugged again. “Sure. Whatever. I need to go get warm again.”

Javi watched him skate away, watched the way he skirted wide around where Shoma was standing getting a drink of water, watched the way Shoma’s eyes narrowed and lip twitched as he watched Yuzu’s back. He shook his head and started his own lap to warm back up again, eyes meeting Keiji’s as he circled around. Keiji gave him a knowing look and a shrug of his own. The gears in Javi’s head started turning. He should talk to Keiji. Soon.

\---

Dai found Shoma in the catering area, alone, sitting with a plate made up entirely of vegetables. Dai hesitated at the door, swallowing hard, knowing exactly what that meant. Shoma was _furious_. He steeled himself and knocked on the wall, drawing a very focused and stone-faced Shoma to look up from where he’d been practically impaling vegetables with a fork.

“Hey, Shoma...got a second?” Dai greeted him, taking a few tentative steps further into the room.

Shoma blinked, looking a little embarrassed to have been caught several vegetables deep into his not-so-secret coping mechanism, especially by Dai.

“Sure.” He mumbled around a mouthful of crunchy pickled vegetables, looking Dai up and down warily as he leaned casually back against the wall.

“On behalf of idiots...maybe you should hear him out.”

Shoma glared at Dai and stabbed a spear of steamed broccoli.

“Don’t wanna.” He said as he shoved it into his mouth.

“The tour is almost over, yeah? You like him, right?” Dai ventured gently, carefully, nervous about overstepping, especially when Shoma was holding his fork like that. Shoma looked at him blankly, chewing in a manner Dai could only define as aggressive. Dai smiled, a bit pleadingly. “Talk to him. You don’t wanna part with things like this. Just trust me on that. Please?”

Shoma looked down at his plate, at the remaining pile of greens, shoving at them idly with his fork as he considered.

“He can apologize, if he wants.” Shoma said finally, looking back up at Dai with a bit of confusion. “Since when did you take his side?”

“Shoma…” Dai sighed, running a hand through his hair and trying not to sound _too_ exasperated. “I’m thirty-three years old, I don’t take sides. I’m offering you some advice. From experience. It’s up to you whether you take it or not, but I-” Dai hesitated and Shoma looked at him curiously, confused but patient. His voice softened, “I’ve been that idiot. I didn’t fix it. And I regret it. All the time.”

They stared at each other for a while, trapped in a silent stand-off. Dai, vulnerable and open, but standing firm. Shoma, closed off and angry, but giving Dai his full attention. The couple of minutes that passed before Shoma stabbed into another pickled vegetable slice felt like hours to Dai.

“I’ll think about it.” Shoma said politely, nodding and poking at his plate again, stabbing through a vegetable with slightly less vigor than before, “Thank you for the advice.”

Conversation over. Dai nodded and threw him a sympathetic smile before backing out of the room.

\---

Showtime, and time for Shoma’s exhibition, time for the debut of his music and choreography changes, rumors of which had already sparked a buzz in the media. Keiji sat on the benches in the green room, shoulder to shoulder with Dai, both pairs of eyes following a very intense and pacing Yuzuru as he stalked up and down the length of the green room with his skate guards on, acting like this was a totally normal place for him to be warming up right now instead of the hallway, or in position to take the ice next.

The television set up in the backstage gave everyone waiting there a live broadcast of the show, so they could watch in privacy from the crowd. Other cast members were here too - milling about, chatting, some also eyeing Yuzuru nervously and with a barely concealed concern. Stephane and Johnny were whispering together, propping themselves against the corner of the room, eyes flickering between Yuzuru and Javi and Shoma on the screen as he skated into his starting position. Javi was sitting on the opposite bench in the room, also watching Yuzuru, looking extremely tired.

Yuzuru’s head snapped up at the announcer’s voice, though he rolled his neck quickly to try and hide it. Dai and Keiji exchanged a nervous glance.

_“Uno Shoma…Say Something.”_

The camera zoomed in on Shoma's face - Keiji zoned in on Yuzuru’s. Shoma had his usual intensity, jaw set firm, but there was a distinct look in his eyes, something remorseful, something wounded. The first notes played and the camera panned out as he began to move, the sound of his blades carving into the ice filling the space between the first plucked notes of the guitar. Yuzuru paused in his pacing, giving the screen his rapt attention, clearing his throat and pulling one arm across his chest, feigning idleness as best he could manage under so many curious eyes.

_Say something, I’m giving up on you…_

Yuzuru’s breath hitched in his throat, just loud enough for Keiji to hear.

_I’ll be the one, if you want me to…_

Shoma twirled into a series of turns, free leg extending and hands reaching above, yearning, before drawing them in, hugging his own chest as he turned.

_Anywhere, I, would have followed you…_

Yuzuru remembered he was supposed to be stretching, then, and switched arms, biting into his lower lip as he did, worrying it back and forth. On screen, Shoma continued his skate, landing a quad when the vocals peaked slightly, his face still subtly but strongly conveying an inner pain, a longing, fingers clutching at the air, grasping, delicate but deliberate movements, using one of his innate strengths to the utmost. As the second voice joined in, Shoma went into his first combination spin, slow, mournful, bowing down with his arms reaching out again as he skated out, purposeful, and heavy.

_And I…will swallow my pride…_

Yuzuru’s arms had fallen to his sides now, fingers twitching. Shoma's face hardened, a streak of anger, frustration, etched in his features, mixing with the sorrow. Yuzuru took a shaky breath.

_You're the one that I love…and I’m saying goodbye…_

Shoma launched into a triple axel as the music swelled, skating a little faster now without losing the mood, the tone, immediately tampering back down as it softened again, his expression softening alongside. Yuzuru had had enough now, shaking his head and turning quickly on his heel, casting a forced smile at everyone he stalked past on his way to the hall.

“Oh my god.” Dai mumbled, flat and monotone, “He…they…”

Keiji glanced at him, raising one eyebrow inquisitively, trying to look as innocent as possible. Dai shook his head.

“We have to do something. I need to make a call.” Dai excused himself and stood up, shuffling a few paces away, but not so far that Keiji couldn't eavesdrop, much to his delight.

Keiji kept his eyes on the screen, on Shoma as he finished, but his ears trained firmly on Dai’s voice, smirking to himself as his own prediction came true.

“Hey…Tatsuki...it's me. No no no no, don't hang up - please. I need your help.”


End file.
